Anyone but Him
by Anlynne
Summary: If it meant the end for you, would you grant his wish?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

In The Beginning

"You two will take care of yourselves, won't you?"

"We'll be at the Order, Hermione -"

She hushed Ron taking quick glimpses around the bustle of the train station to be sure that no one overheard. "Be careful!"

"We're safe there. Nothing can happen, and if it does we'll send word to you, no problem."

Harry nodded in agreement with him. "Don't worry so much. Have a good time with your parents in Italy, okay? Where are your parents?" He cast wandering eyes around.

"Um, late, I guess."

Breaking from Fred, George and Ginny Mrs. Weasley came up to them, a hand on her shoulder comfortingly. "Are you sure you don't want us to stay here until they come?"

"I'm sure," she said hastily. They couldn't stay, they couldn't see where she was really going. They wouldn't understand.

"We can't leave you alone here, dear. It wouldn't be right, anything can happen these days."

She was right. They weren't going to leave. She peered at an elderly couple far away. She smiled. "I see them. Goodbye, Mrs. Weasley."

Her eyes narrowed skeptically, but her balding and exasperated husband tugged on her arm. "Come on, Molly. Hermione's never lied to us, she'll be fine. She has her wand on her and we need to go."

"Oh, okay. Keep in touch!"

"Every three days."

"Two days!"

"Two days," she promised and watched them leave through the crowd to the magically enhanced car. Mrs. Weasley glimpsed over her shoulder a couple of times, but Hermione had turned to give the illusion that she was walking towards her parents, but the moment they were gone she stopped near empty tracks.

She adjusted the straps on her brown pack and waited. The pseudo parents were greeting a little girl with golden pigtails happily. It caused a small aching in Hermione remembering the years that she ran up to her parents after being away at school. It was a wonderful reunion of excitement and joy, but she had no regrets.

That year - her Sixth Year at Hogwarts - she was going to have a different kind of holiday. She anxiously bounced in place for the boy she searched for, scanning the unfamiliar faces until settling on a pointed one, white-blond hair sweeping his stormy eyes. Her heart stopped, her breath froze, no long the puffs of smoke curling in front of her.

She ran, her pack jostling against her back until she was embracing Draco Malfoy, his dark musky scent filling her lungs. He hesitated only a second before wrapping his arms around her, the fringe of his hair brushing over her lashes as he bent to kiss her cheek.

"No problems," he asked in his drawling tone.

"None," she declared happily. "How about you?"

"Parents have officially vacated the mansion. They are in Rome as we speak, meeting up with their old friends."

She nodded, understanding "old friends" to be Death Eaters. That was one thing that was a wedge between them. Draco was the son of a Death Eater, he too was also one, the Dark Mark on his left forearm covered by his long sleeve. She was Harry Potter - the savior of the Wizarding world's - best friend, not to mention a muggle-born. She knew the relationship between her and Draco could not last until she convinced him to leave his family and to come with her, but that was a bridge to come to later. For then, it was the two of them, secretively and singularly each others.

He took her pack slinging it over his own shoulder as he took her hand. They began walking as he explained. "There's a nearby Wizarding pub. The owner is a friend of father's, and we can go straight home from the fireplace there."

"But Draco, didn't you say once that a muggle-born is noticeable?" She thought back to their Fourth Year at the Quidditch World Cup where he warned her. The place was overtaken by Voldemort's followers. It was one of the worst memories she carried, but it was part of being "The Chosen's" friend. They were constantly in danger, and since Voldemort had been brought back to life that year, they were in more danger than ever.

He didn't answer her and she didn't ask again. Regardless of the answer, she was safe with him. If Harry or Ron knew they'd strongly disagree, but it wasn't their choice to make.

Draco made her happy, she was good for him as he was good for her. Because of him she loosened up on following the rules, though Ron credited it to his behavior. For Draco, he lightened up on his bullying, he was a better man, but it was simply because he wanted to be.

It started a few months after the beginning of that year. He became sullen, quiet, and ceased his sick entertainment. Though many noticed, it was Hermione who decided to investigate, begging Harry to back off. Although it was going on deaf ears, she had to try. She couldn't be caught, not even by her best friend. He wouldn't understand. He would shoot before asking questions, and she... She knew that Draco didn't want to be who he was. He didn't want to do what he was doing.

One night in the library, whilst a storm broke outside, she told him she knew and cleverly dragged the truth out. He was nonetheless shocked, and was more so when he saw in her eyes (somehow) that she lied. He was right, she hadn't truthfully known, she used Harry's startling guess of him receiving the Dark Mark. However, instead of being angry with her, he admired her. With a heavy heart, he confessed to everything and asked her to keep his secret.

She promised to keep him safe in return that he try everything possible to keep everyone out of harms way. It was unlike Hermione, normally she would've gone to Dumbledore, but it was the one thing he was unwilling to do, and she couldn't force him. And yet, she couldn't leave him. Working together, it brought them closer. They found they were well suited for each other. No one would've believed her if she told them. Draco and her were fire and ice.

They left the train station traveling along the sidewalk, the cool breeze ruffling their hair. It was nice, to be out, to hold hands, and not worry about being seen. They were far past the danger of anyone spotting them. All of their school mates had gone home.

Soon they came upon an alleyway and he pulled her into it. In the shadows he drew up the hood of her black satin cloak, setting it low over her eyes. "Keep your face down and don't speak," he ordered gently, tugging on her wrist for her to trail behind him.

There was a small wooden door that imperceptibly creaked when opened. The noise of clinking glasses and clamorous laughter overrode it. It stunk with stale alcohol and hay. The straws crunched under her trainers. She remembered when he told her to keep her big, bushy head down. She wondered foolishly if any of the men surrounding them could smell her, like humans to lions.

"Mr. Malfoy," a screechy voice greeted. "Oh, are you bringing a friend?"

"It's only Theodore Nott, sir. He's coming over for a bit before going home."

"He looks a tad smaller..."

"A spell gone awry. You understand."

The man chuckled. "Oh yes, those days at Hogwarts. Getting good marks, have you? Your father was boasting in here last week about you!"

"I'm doing fine, sir."

"Good to hear. We don't want that mudblood friend of Potter's to get the best of you, now. Go on, I'm sure you want to unpack. Enjoy your vacation, Mr. Malfoy, you too, Mr. Nott."

Draco's tone was colder and shorter. "Thank you, sir."

Quicker than she could barely walk they turned to what was the fireplace she couldn't see beyond her hood. She knew so by the ashes coloring the worn floor. Tucked under his arm, he bellowed the Malfoy Manor, and in green flames, they churned, disappearing to his house, where she would be staying for two weeks.

Their Christmas vacation was about to begin.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The Bookworm and The Ferret

Smoothly, Hermione and Draco stepped out of the hearth, dusting the ashes from their shoulders and hair. She would never like floo'ing, but it was preferable than apparition - not that they were allowed to do so outside of Hogwarts. Either way she felt nauseous after traveling, her stomach rolling, her head swimming.

He took her cloak hanging it on a nearby rack alongside his. She took that opportunity to examine the lounge she was in. Everything was dark, the cherry floor, the over-stuffed chairs and couch, and the blood-red bricks of the fireplace. The only light was from the glittering chandelier, the windows draped tightly shut. Even the paintings of the strict family of three was done in a dark manner. When she thought more about it, the only color she had seen Draco wear was black. It was not that she was complaining, she loved him in black, his light hair and eyes standing out in stark contrast. He was beautiful to her just the way he was.

He propped his elbow up in the air, his arm extended for her to take. "Shall I show you the rest?"

She laid her hand genially on his wrist. "I'd be much obliged."

Through the tour, she saw that every part of the house was dark. The kitchen off of the lounge appeared to be more of a torture chamber, the hot stifling air suffocating her. Through there was the dining room, an entire wall a window to the outside where the snow softly fell on the frozen grass. It greatly surprised her to see such airiness anywhere in the household, the air pouring in fresh and clean on the gloomy table and chairs.

"Mother insisted on having it put in. She loves gardening."

She tried to imagine uppity Mrs. Malfoy digging in dirt. It wasn't plausible, her imagination never being that far-fetched. It was comical if anything.

Onward they went, up the silent staircase (not a creak sounding from it) to the landing of a hallway with doors lining it. He pointed to his room and the guest room that she would be staying in. It was right across the hall and she felt a squirming joy at that. The next doors were bathrooms, and down further was the library, his parents rooms and his father's study.

There were two more staircases, one leading down to the cellar. He didn't take her there as it was below freezing. The other staircase led to the other half of the house, another hallway of guest rooms and bathrooms. He explained they had plenty of parties that filled them. She could imagine that, the ball gowns, the dancing, the old-fashioned bowing and curtsies.

In the lounge Draco gathered their things and carried them upstairs. It amazed her how strong he was. He was as skinny as Harry, nearly as tall as Ron. She took joy watching him carry them without the help of magic.

He dumped the cases by the door. "I'll let you get settled," he told her before closing the door on his way out.

Her room was huge - too huge for her. The large double bed with a sheer caramel canopy, the dresser, walk-in closet, and a vanity with a cushioned seat. She spun once, her arms opened wide, a smile plastered on her face. She collapsed on the bed in the position to make the perfect snow angel.

She'd been many places with her parents. France, Germany, and Ireland, but no vacation would ever compare to the one she would have then with Draco. It was uncharacteristic of her to use such Malfoy ploy against the people that she loved, but it was for good reason. With the war closer to their golden horizon to be dyed red from the lives they would continue to lose, she needed to be with him, just them, for the first and last time.

Tears pricked her eyes as she thought of it. She didn't know how, but she knew that it would be their last chance. The possibility of a happy ending was slim. She was taking a huge risk, the risk of both of their lives if anyone found out, and the risk of a broken heart. She thought of ending it every time she concluded the risks were too big, but every time she saw him, she melted. She couldn't do it.

A short rap alerted her and she sat up quickly.

"Hermione," Draco called through, muffled by the door. "I put the elves on holiday. I'm cooking dinner for us. Entertain yourself, won't you?"

She grinned. He placed the house-elves on holiday and he was cooking. For her.

"May I go to the library?"

There was a thick silence. For a moment she thought he left, and she stood from the bed to open the door. Then he spoke, "be careful, okay? Call if you need anything."

"...I will."

She peered at the door but he was gone. Slipping off her shoes, she padded down the hall to the library, anxious to see what books it would hold. Since she was a little girl she imagined the library as the most magical place there was. That thought hadn't changed in actuality. She still saw books that way, full of information to be absorbed.

Ten towering bookcases formed an aisle of large seats at the end of each one, the light streaming in serenely. She hurriedly made her way into the first section, grabbed a random book, the dust coating her fingertips, and plopped into the closest seat. Pulling her legs up to her chest she propped the book open on it, lovingly caressing the binding, the pages, as she did with each and every book that crossed her path.

An hour passed, the light shifting her shadow, but she didn't take her eyes of the pages. She was horrified that such a book would ever be written. It was filled with horrible hexes and curses that were beyond anyone's imagination. Unconsciously she covered her mouth, but could not stop reading. In fright that it was a spell that kept her sights on the disgusting words she looked up, blinking rapidly.

Draco stood in front of her, leaned on the far most bookcase, his arms crossed over his chest. His lips were set in a straight disapproving line.

"Draco..." She didn't know what to say. Why did he not warn her?

"Nearly everyone in my family is a Death Eater. I thought you would have known. What did you think you would find, Hermione? Tales of knights in shining armor? Princess in distress? Didn't think those were your kind of books anyhow."

"You should've told me," she spat throwing the revolting book on the floor as if it would contaminant her fingers.

"As I said, I thought you would've known."

"I did not _know_."

He sneered, but then the corner of his mouth turned up. "I love it when you get that fired up."

"This is serious. Do you honestly think I'm happy right now?"

"Not at all. You had that same vein popping out of your forehead when you slapped me in our Third Year."

"Be careful or I'll slap you again."

"Temper, temper."

"Sometimes, Malfoy, I think you're nothing more than the amazing bouncing blond ferret!"

"Sometimes, Granger, I think you're nothing more than the bookworm from hell. Always having your nose upturned or in a book." He grabbed the one off the floor throwing it in the seat. "This isn't my house, this isn't my library, it's my parents. Calm down, will you?"

She shook her head hopelessly. "Draco -"

"Don't start, Hermione."

"Please, we can help you. You don't have to live like this. You don't. Please, if you come with me -" His eyes flashed and she fell quiet immediately. It was never any use. He was sent to doom by his bloodline. It didn't matter if it didn't have to be that way, that was his destiny as he saw it. He owed his family more than the traitorous acts he was causing by being with her. Lucius and Narcissia Malfoy did love their son a great deal. How they felt about the rest of the world was another matter entirely.

"Come," he held out his hand, "our dinner will get cold."

She stared at the hand, idly wondering how many lives that hand may take in the future. What would he be forced to do? How would he live with himself? Draco may have been cold on the outside, but he had a heart, and deep inside, he was scared to death.

"Stop worrying for _once._ Enjoy yourself. Please."

Nodding, she placed her hand in his and together they went to the dining room. There the table was set, white taper candles glowing calmly on the table. It gave her a wonderful pleasure that they could not work magic outside of school, and there was no one around to do it for him. It would be good for him to learn what it was like without magic. Just like muggles.

In gentleman's fashion, he held out her chair. He lifted the silver lids on her plate of food, and she smelled burnt pasta. Before she could think she had her hand over her nose, the blackened rations of no use.

"No good, is it," he rhetorically asked, down-crested.

"Um, no," she assured, barely breathing. "It should be good for the stomach, that's what I read."

"No, no, it's no good!"

"Draco, you've never cooked before. This isn't that bad."

"It's horrible, Hermione, you can say it."

She smiled. She had nothing to hide from him. "It's not good..."

"The house-elves are gone, how're we going to eat?"

"I can cook."

"This is your vacation -"

"Ours," she corrected happily. She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. "You go upstairs and keep yourself occupied."

He was hesitant, but once he left the area she tied her caramel hair back and got to work. She took out pots and pans, and any food she saw in the fridge and pantry. She poured water into the pan from the tap, and shuffled through the cans, choosing a few to set up on the gray speckled counter. She loved cooking, from when she was young and her mother would set her up beside the stove to help stir. She had been cooking breakfast every Sunday since then for her parents.

By the end she had served up a wonderful meal of fried fish and corn (the only things she could find). He was sure to love it, anything was better than the concoction he came up with. Regardless, she would have to shop later to stock up, and she wondered if he wanted to come so he could have an input.

On her way to the dining room, the plates balanced in her hands she froze. The image of her and Draco at the store, shopping, together, like any normal couple that were living together, it wrenched her heart out. They could never have that, any future with him was tainted by his past and what he felt he had to do.

"Hermione," he called from outside.

She shook out of her trance. "Yes," she croaked weakly. "Dinner's ready." She walked out, and silently set the table.

When they were settled across from one another, Draco raised his glass and she followed suit.

"To our first vacation together."

She clinked her glass against his. "To our vacation."

The first bite he took he exclaimed, "this is superb!"

She blushed. "I'm glad you like it. I'll have to go to the store to buy more. This was all that they had."

"We can go together?"

"At a muggle store," she asked for clarification.

"Sure, why not?"

"You and muggles?"

"Geez, Hermione," he complained. "I'm civilized, alright? I'll do fine."

"I know you will, I had no doubts about your abilities with muggles, it's just... I didn't know if you'd be... Comfortable."

"You think I'm still prejudice?"

"Of course not! Draco, no, that's not what I meant. I only meant..." What did she mean? She felt horrid. It was their first meal together and she was ruining it. "I'm sorry."

He twirled his fork once, watching the glint it made off of the candles. "I can't blame you. Wish I could, but I've bullied you and your friends. I've done terrible things, all because of a reputation I felt I had to uphold. I am sorry, Hermione. I've told you loads of times and I've grown up, but the guilt will never go away, the repentance I owe you. How have you ever forgiven me for all that I've done?"

"You could've put me in a terrible spot with my friends, but you didn't."

"You think by not telling Potter and Weasley about us that I wouldn't have had any explaining to do to Nott or Zabini?"

"You would never kiss a dirty mudblood."

Wryly he smirked. "You're right, but you're blood isn't dirty, Granger. Not a bit. That is where you are wrong."

"You thought it then."

He stood and walked the length of the table over to her. He laid his hands on the armrest of her chair, and bent his head to hers. "I told you." He kissed her lips. "You're blood is cleaner than mine."

"There is nothing wrong with your blood."

"We've grown up, Hermione, we've had to, but who I am now doesn't erase who I've been."

"It makes you that much better then."

"You're wrong."

"I'm not."

"Give it up."

"For now."

That was why she was in love with Draco Malfoy. He wasn't the person people thought he was, and he was the only one she didn't mind hearing she was wrong from, or arguing with him when she wasn't. In fact, it felt good to be less than perfect, to not have anything to prove to him that she felt she had to prove to everyone else. Finally.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Destinies

_Dear Harry and Ron,_

_ I've arrived in Italy. It's beautiful and I'm learning so much! The museums are masterpieces themselves. I'll tell you all about it when we return to school._

_ I hope you two are behaving yourselves._

_Love From, Hermione_

_Dear Mom and Dad,_

_ I trust that you are having a nice time in Italy? I miss you terribly, but I'm having a good time here with the Weasley's and Harry._

_Love You, Hermione_

The letters were rolled, a silk strip tied around it, waiting to be sent. She would have to use Mrs. Malfoy's owl since Harry and Ron would recognize Draco's conspicuous Eagle Owl.

Hermione rolled to her side, and that's when she abruptly woke. The thick curtains were drawn back, stabbing her eyes with the light of the sun. She sat up rubbing them vigorously, and before she could contemplate why they were open or why her letters were gone, she saw on the pillow next to her, a pink tulip with a folded note. The words were slanted but elegant.

_While I'm doing the shopping eat the breakfast I prepared for you, then go outside. You'll know where to go from there._

_Draco_

She touched the petals of the flower, grinning from ear to ear. It was better than Christmas morning, and like she did as a child she hopped out of the bed and dressed quickly in the jeans and t-shirt from the wardrobe. She ran downstairs, purposefully skipping the last step in her happiness.

On the table in the dining room was a magically heated plate of eggs and bacon. With a sly smile and a good hunch she went to the kitchen to peek into the trash underneath the sink, and just as she thought, there was the evidence of a white package from a fast food restaurant. She had to giggle a little but was impressed. He had to have known how to use a telephone and for an elite pureblood of a Death Eater family that was quite an accomplishment.

As quickly as she got out of bed and dressed, she ate. She scarfed down it all, and washed them under the tap. In the next moment she was skidding out the side door to look for the place she was supposed to go.

It was a warm day, the sun heating her flushed cheeks. There was not a fluff of cloud in the baby blue sky. She loved days as those, she considered it perfect, but she would enjoy it later, once she found what Draco had been talking about.

With her hand as a shield over her eyes she saw it. In the distance near the encompassing trees was a small wooden house. That had to be it. There was nothing else around.

Breaking out in a sprint she headed towards it, grabbing the brass handle in the shape of a curling snake and pulling. The strong scent of must curled into her nose causing several sneeze outbreaks, and when it was clear she noticed a dusty box in the corner, the flaps tucked into each other. The one window placed in the ceiling allowed the sunlight to decant down, filling the small sanctuary and the particles creating a smoky haze.

Draco sent her out there for a reason, and she could only assume that it was the box, despite that it looked like it had been there too long to be a set-up surprise for her. She sat on the floor beside it, opening it up and peering inside, the climax building. There inside of it, was a single book.

Like she had in the library she pulled her knees to her chest and set the thick book on her lap. Opening it up she saw on the first page Draco's name in a messy signature, as if it was written when he still learning to write. To prove her point there was a trail of ink splatters.

Turning the page she observed the childish drawings of stick figures, names below them. There was a giant house with a family of three. On the next page was a stick figure of himself with another titled "Theodore Nott." The pages continued on, the sketches becoming increasingly better, more detailed, and they were dated and given the initials D.M. at the bottom of each one.

Beginning in the year of 1991 when they started their attendance to Hogwarts was when she saw pictures of Harry, Ron, and herself. They weren't nice, in fact they were quite terrible. In most, her buck teeth descended to her jaw line, her hair more wild than it really was, and her nose upturned. Harry and Ron were shown dead in some pictures, and that disturbed and angered her. Why would Draco want to show her such things?

Hermione turned the pages faster, and the years passed, his drawing ability increasing rapidly. Elaboration and personality had evolved in the pages, and she hadn't made up her mind whether or not to be happy about it, because the drawings were becoming more and more gruesome.

It was in the year of 1994 that the pictures of her changed, although her friends had not. She was more beautiful, her hair more curly than bushy, her teeth straightened and shortened. She was... Beautiful. He showed her not only modest but the freckle above her right brow that no one noticed.

Every page she became prettier, if that was even possible, and she was by herself, not with her friends. There were drawings of her sitting in class, bent over her parchment and scrawling with her quill, her hair falling around her face as a shield, but through the trendles it was seen that she was biting her lip. She was fascinated by them, by how he saw her. As if she was... Loved. He saw her the way no one did, she couldn't possibly be that beautiful. Her hair was drawn as unmanageable as it was, but not as though she was a homeless person that couldn't afford a brush, it didn't diminish her, she didn't appear homely. Through his eyes, it was an endearing detail.

Tenderly she felt the indention, the places where the quill swept and created such detail and adoration. Where hate once ruled, admiration took its place, within the pages she saw Draco's transformation, and it was the most wonderful and inspiring thing she had ever seen. She flipped through them, one by one, over and over again.

"You are lovely, don't you know?"

Frightened, her head snapped up, a gasp escaping her lips, the book falling between her legs. Draco, leaning against the doorway smirked playfully, and walked to her to bend and pick up the book. He handed it back to her, pressing it into her hands.

"It's yours."

She felt the leather cover. "I can't accept this."

"It's the only proof I have of my change. I want you to have it. A piece of me when I go. I'll feel better when it's with you."

"You're not going anywhere, Draco."

"Don't. Don't start that, Hermione. The battles began long ago and the war is approaching. People _will_ die. It's inevitable."

She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the tears that were on the brink of her lids. His hands captured her cheeks, holding her head in a vice so she could not turn away. She wished he'd let go, let her have her moment of peace, but of course, he wasn't going to allow her that.

She wasn't stupid, she knew people would die. She was aware of the risks on both of their sides, and it was the same. They were going to lose people, and possibly their lives. That didn't mean she could bear to think of it. She wanted some reassurance, a light in the abyss. A little bit of hope.

"Don't cry."

"I know the dangers. Don't you think I know? After all that we've been through?"

His face contorted in disgust. "I _hate_ thinking of what you've been through. All because of Potter! It's his fault."

Forcefully, she pushed his hands away. She stood, the book forgotten on the floor. Her rage took her, making her look like a mad woman, the tears streaking her cheeks. "Harry is my best friend! Nothing I've gone through has been his fault! I chose to help him, because I believe in what he's doing and I believe in him. If you don't accept that, Malfoy, then we have a problem!"

Slowly he stood, looking down into her bright brown eyes, the color of warmth, that was what he said once long ago. He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and softly muttered, "I accept it if you accept my path. We're not on the same side. I will not kill you, Hermione, I'd rather die myself. I will do everything in my power to protect you, but I want us to be prepared for the consequences of the stations we took and those that were destined for us."

She shook her head, amused by him. "Don't you know? We set our own destinies."

"Not this again -"

"It's true -"

He clasped her face in his hands again, holding her tight to look at him. "I won't allow false hopes and promises. We don't know what's to come and we both admit that."

"Yes, that's true."

"And it's true that I love you."

As he had stole her gaze, he stole her breath and her heart. Like the thief he was, he stole everything of her. She was left with him, trusting him not to allow her to fall. "I love you too."

Gently he pressed his lips to hers in one kiss among millions, but the first out of pure unadulterated love. They were not two enemies sneaking moments, they were simply Draco and Hermione, and that was enough for a lifetime. None of their statures or their blood mattered. Nothing did and ever would with him, and that was their secret. They did not care.

In the playhouse of Draco's childhood, him and Hermione, full grown shared a kiss that sealed them. Nothing could tear them apart then, it was much too late.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

The Ball

Once more the anxious sun woke Hermione, and once more there was a yellow rose on the unused pillow. She grinned picking it up, smelling inside of the folded petals, her eyes closed, the colors dancing behind her lids like a fireworks show.

She sat up, the blankets pooling at her waist. Before she could untangle the weave it made around her legs she saw at the end of the bed a dress, a note lying on the bodice.

_ Put this on, _it read simply_._

Scooting closer to it, she felt the material. Silk, the softest silk that had ever graced her fingers. It was a lovely blue, deep as the sea, the neckline low but tasteful. When she stood and slid it over her head, it was luxurious, the hem skimming the floor. It was almost sinful to be wearing such a treasure.

She skimmed the bottom of the bed for any shoes, but instead, there was a note. It read: _Come to the library barefoot._

That was intriguing. She placed it with the other note, taking a hairbrush from the vanity, moving it through her hair, becoming vigorous with the knots. She wished she had time to do more with herself, but her anxiousness wouldn't allow it.

Holding her dress to her ankles she complied to the orders she had been given, and went to the library. Genially she prodded open the door, stepping inside. Her eyes opened wide as simultaneously soft classical music played from the walls, and she observed the scene before her.

The bookshelves were against the walls leaving a large open space. In the center was Draco dressed in a black tuxedo, his hands in his pockets, barefoot like her.

When he looked up there was the seriousness of a thin line for only a second, because then there appeared a smile that took up most of his visage. He straightened, his chest protruding proudly.

"What is this," she asked as she made her way over to him, ogling over the hanging candles noting that there had been magic used.

He took her hand and bowed, kissing her knuckles. "It's our ball. If you remember our Fourth Year ball you went with Krum and I with Pansy. I thought we'd do it right this time."

"How did you use magic?"

"Don't be a stick in the mud. Have some trust in me, I called in a favor. Theo owed me big time for helping him with Potions. With no questions asked he set this up for me."

"But -"

"He's a year older," he explicated further. "Any other questions?"

"No, I'm sorry."

"You can't help if your mind doesn't stop questioning." He twirled her once, and she could feel his tempest eyes roving over her, examining how the dress fit her. "I love it."

She wasn't sure if he meant her questioning or the dress, but it didn't matter either way. It was a compliment. She still recalled the first compliment he ever paid her, and how it meant more than she could thank him for in the midst of all of his demeaning snides that were rare those days, but present in a sweet, teasing, and gentle way.

She had been running down one of the corridors of Hogwarts' dungeons. Professor Snape had kept her after to discuss the lengthy essay she did on Pegasus' and Unicorns similarities of the eternal organs and the degrees in which they helped with potions. It was five pages longer than he asked for, and for it she received a lower grade. She wasn't in a good mood and she was late for dinner.

It was on her way up the staircase that she ran into Draco - literally. All of her books fell, skipping steps down to the cold and damp floor, pages wet, torn, and she inwardly flinched. She groaned, apologized and began picking them up. She waited for the crude epithet.

Being alone though, Draco had bent to help her. He placed all the books in her arms or in her bag. She was frozen in shock as he did so. She would never forget his words that day: _"No one should have beauty and brains. It's very unfair, Granger." _And he walked away.

"What are you thinking about," he asked, bringing her back to the present.

"I was thinking of the first compliment you gave me."

He nodded, furrowing his brows in an obvious gesture that meant he didn't remember. He kept his hands on her waist, her arms securely over his shoulders, and slowly they started to move in a circle, timed with the largo tempo of the music.

"I bumped into you; you picked up my books."

"Aha," he exclaimed happily. "I've given you a lot of compliments."

"Only since we've been together."

"They were all said in my head."

"Since when?"

"Unless you count, 'annoying mudblood' to be an endearment, then I suppose since Fourth Year, at the ball. That's when I first started to see you for who you really were. It's horrible of me, but it was because of how beautiful you were."

Her heart sunk to the depths of her stomach. "That's all?"

"Of course not, the next day you were back to your bushy-headed self, but I couldn't get you out of my head. The way I saw you changed that night. I saw how brown your eyes were, how pink your lips..."

"How big my ears," she joked.

He narrowed his eyes. "Your ears?"

"Never mind, it was a joke. It's -"

"Spare me. I don't need to know. The point is that you are perfect for me. In every way possible. Your beauty is only a bonus. Eventually, I would like to believe that I would've notice you, even if it wasn't for the ball."

That would have never happened, she was sure. And she felt no bitterness knowing that he wouldn't have. That ball was a blessing, and it was okay that it was the start of their gradual cadence and natural pull towards one another. "You wouldn't have and neither would I."

He pulled her closer to him, his cheek against the top of her head. "I don't like to think of us any other way."

"Then don't," she whispered to his chest. "Something had to be the beginning."

"And our ending?"

"You worry about it too." It was a statement, not a query. "Do we have to keep talking about it? It's getting repetitive."

He kissed the part in her hair to say that he understood, and he began to sang lowly. "Cut the darkness from my skin. Burn me with the essence only you can give. Give me a reason to look into your eyes like you do, always do, you gave me everything. A beginning of freshly cut flowers and my sun rises and sets with you, washing over me, your smile crashes into me. You are my beginning, my ending, and everything in between. Cut my ties and anew will be ours."

"You're a poet too?"

"Not a good one."

"I love it." She slid her hand under his sleeve and felt where she knew the dark mark would be. "Your darkness is only skin deep."

"You think too much of me, Hermione."

"What I think of you is only what you are. I don't disillusion myself with falsehoods."

"You're a conundrum."

"I get that a lot."

He let her go, dipping his hand inside of his jacket. "I have a surprise for you." He pulled out a slim ticket, showing it to her.

A girlish sequel escaped her as she read the small print, the admittance for a lecture at a nearby university. "The history of Italy?"

He grinned. "I plan on taking you there after the war ends, so study up."

She took the ticket, hopping up on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. She diverted her path to kiss his lips, sending a delicious thrill through her. "Thank you so much! Do you have another?"

"Why would I?"

"Aren't you coming?"

"No, I'll wait here for Theo. We have some things to discuss. Have fun, won't you?"

She waved the ticket, "this is your way of getting rid of me."

"Hermione, this is important. Please do this for me."

"Let me guess," she scowled, "Death Eater talk."

He opened his mouth to answer, but she cut him off. She didn't want to know, if she did she would have to bring an end to it. It was her job. "Fine. I'll take it. Do what you have to."

"You're angry."

"No."

"You're lying," he spat, his eyes flashing.

Her cheeks burned. "I am not. I'm worried -"

"Not this again," he groaned, his eyes rolling in the back of his head.

"No," she agreed, "lets enjoy our time. We have," she glimpsed at the time on the ticket, "an hour."

It was not as though she was excited by the prospect of him discussing who-knew-what - or worse who-knew-who with his best mate. She was disgusted with herself when she was doing what she was always doing: Betraying her duty to stop Voldemort. If only Harry and Ron knew, they'd both would have conniptions. She could hear Harry's voice in her head.

_ "You let him go, Hermione?! What if he was passing on secret information!"_

She outwardly cringed at it. Ron would have been just as bad, siding with Harry as he always had done.

Draco grabbed her hips pulling her to him forcefully, nearly knocking the air from her lungs as he did. "Then lets use it. Lets keep dancing and forget about all of this. It's not worth our limited time."

She held her hand on his chest, but did not push him away, the sadness at one day losing him overbearing. "You're something else, Malfoy."

"You love me anyway, Granger."

"More than I can express."

"I think you are. Remember, you're my little mudblood," he smirked.

"You're my sneaky, spoiled Slytherin."

"Always."

That she was. Always his. She was going against every fiber of her being to stay so he could do something she was so opposed to that she was fighting in battles to stop it. They were both showing that they were willing to risk everything to be together.

She was innately foolish.

* * *

A/N: I apologize for the repetitiveness of their worry for the future, but Hermione likes to beat subjects to death.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

What If It Is

Hermione perched herself on the edge of one of the thousands of seats in the auditorium. While many of the students there were falling asleep, she had wished she was one of the few that had brought their notebooks and pens. She would have if Draco hadn't practically pushed her out the door.

Not knowing who he was talking to and what he was particularly talking about made her sure that she wouldn't be able to properly enjoy the lecture. It wasn't true. She was riveted and she only felt slightly thwarted by that.

On her way back to the fireplace at a pub a few streets over (one that did not discriminate muggles) she went over the lecture again, making mental notes which books to check out for further studying. She may even learn Italian. Draco could join her in learning, it could be something they could do together. He liked learning as well, and they could walk along the streets of Italy like they were born and raised there.

The cold air brushed on her exposed hands, neck, and face. She pulled up the hood of her cloak up, her head down to the pavement as she walked. The air would soon crystallized to small flakes. She hoped it would be a white Christmas.

Her trail was in a haze as she thought about her gift to Draco, picturing the swirling snow outside that would play outside of the window. She didn't pay mind to the swirling embers of the fireplace as she spun, and she paid no mind to brush it off her shoulders and out of her hair. It was the sound of voices that brought her out of her reverie.

As quiet as she could be, she crept up the staircase, following the voices, one she knew to be Draco's. The other she could not place, but it was lighter, not as deep. Gradually they became louder, but muffled by the doors of the library that separated them and her. She pressed her ear near the crack and listened, the words easier to make out.

"You said no questions asked," Draco irritably reminded the person.

"You're supposed to be my best mate. You've never hid anything from me before. I know it's a girl, so why is it that you can't give me a name?"

"Because it's not Pansy, Theo."

"Good, I've never liked that girl. You have too big of an ego for someone to treat you like a god. So who is she?"

"I can't talk to you about it."

"Why?" There was a seconds pause. "It's a Slytherin, isn't it?"

"No."

"Ravenclaw?"

"No."

"…Gryffindor?"

"Get out."

"Damn it, Draco, this is stupid. It can't be that bad."

Draco's tone softened. "What if it is?"

There was another pause. "No," he gasped. "Not... Not Granger?!" When he was answered by a disgraceful silence, he continued. "How could you have let it happen?"

"She dropped her books."

"What? No - whatever - it doesn't matter. You're going to be killed, you know that?"

"No one has to find out."

"And if they do you know this is the end of me too? You know they'll kill me as well! I can't let you do this."

"You're not telling anyone," he growled threateningly. "You're going to keep your mouth shut, Theo. If they find out, they'll kill her."

"She should be dead, she's a fucking mudblood!"

There was a crunching sound, a grunt, and the sound of someone falling to the hard wood floor.

"What was that for, you bloody moron," Theo yelled but muffled and nasalized.

"You won't put her in danger."

"What's come over you?"

"Her."

"You're off your rocker! What has she done to you?"

"Keep this secret for me, if not to keep her safe, to keep me safe. Do it as my best mate."

"What will you do when the final battle comes, Draco? What side will you choose?"

He groaned, and she envisioned him running his fingers through his hair and over his face like he had a habit of doing when he was under a great deal of pressure. "I will not hurt her. I'll protect her as well as I can."

"Don't be a git, we both know you'll be glued to her and that'll give you away. The Dark Lord will expect you to kill her. You have to choose."

"I will not turn my back on my lineage."

"You already have."

Suddenly, the air was tense, smothering her, and she knew that a smaller war than the one they were in was going to break out.

"What does it say about you? What about Terra Hills -"

"Shut up about her! You don't know her!"

"She's a muggle, Theo! You can't deny that! What about you? You're being a right hypocrite."

"Terra isn't part of the Golden Trio. She isn't part of the regime that is going to end us all. She's of no danger -"

"So you think the Dark Lord is going to approve?"

"I think that my bloody risk is my own. How did you know about her?"

"I saw you two when I picked up the ticket for Hermione. You haven't thought this through, mate. This danger is not your own. It's hers too. He'll kill her in front of you and he'll enjoy every second of your pain. He'll be merciful enough to kill you too, and for my knowledge I'll die too. It isn't only about you."

"We're doomed."

"Not if no one finds out."

"We can give them up."

Draco huffed in disbelief. "Or you could leave with her. Flee the country. You don't have the Dark Mark yet, you could still get out unscathed. Keep low."

"What about you?"

"I may be leading us to our deaths but I'm too selfish to give her up. I'll fight on my side, she'll fight on hers, and we'll hope that we both survive it."

"You won't be able to be with her."

"I know. This is why this vacation is so important."

"If I'm honest again, will you hit me?"

"Depends."

"You should run too. Get out of here, both of you."

"I can't leave my family to take up my duty."

"Then you should join hers. They'll protect you and you can serve. You wouldn't be running, changing allegiances is all. I wish I could do the same, but you're right, they'd kill Terra and I can't abandon her.

"Will you think about it?"

"Yes."

"I'll see you soon."

Hermione swallowed, attempting to slow her breathing. By "see you soon," she knew it to be a way of reluctant goodbye. As quietly as she came she left, leaving them at their peace.

It never occurred to her, how hard it must have been for him. She assumed he was being difficult was his nature, but it was much more than that. He wasn't afraid of fighting for her side, of aligning with his enemy. He was keeping the people he loved safe, and she had no idea how many Voldemort would kill because of two teenagers, but how could she be surprised? He tried to kill Harry as a baby because of a prophecy.

Hermione decided then that she would not pressure him anymore. As long as he lived through the war, she would live with not being with him.

It was astounding how one relationship could bring about all of their demise.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Angel

"You eat this stuff," Draco asked loudly and rudely in the grocery store the next day.

Hermione snatched the package of frozen peas from his hand and threw it back into the freezer. "You heat them up," she explained. "Let me to do the shopping."

"Then why did I come along?"

She sighed, aggravated. She didn't know what gave her the idea that grocery shopping with Draco would be fun, that it would be a good experience for him, but she was wrong. He must have asked a hundred questions from the moment they left the house, all the way into the cab in the next muggle neighborhood to the store. It was exhausting and she tried to remember the calming morning she had, the pink carnation lying on her pillow, and the kiss that waited for her in the dining room. The sweetest morning surprises she ever had.

"This is the way we shop. Really, Draco, you should've taken Muggle Studies. It's a great help to prepare you for the future."

"Why," he spat sardonically, "that's why I have you."

With an orange in her hand, she snapped to him. "If that's the way you feel, Malfoy -"

He grinned widely.

"What?"

"Is it odd that I love you calling me by my surname?"

She huffed indignantly. "Yes." Then she smiled, and shook her head. "How do you do that?"

He began walking down the aisle, goosebumps over his skin from the coldness of the surrounding machines. "How do I do what?"

"Give me a headache and then make me feel..." She bit her lip nervously.

"I think it has something to do with how you make me feel."

"How is that?"

"Like I'm the luckiest man on earth. Not just wizard. You deserve everything I'm able to give you, and I will. I will make you happy."

"There's something you're not telling me," she guessed, reading his averted gaze.

He pushed an apple over, it falling into the bin of tangerines. "I was thinking about your offer... If it means that much to you, I'll go to Dumbeldore..."

Startled by his confession she stopped, and he walked on a couple of steps before stopping himself, his head cocked to listen to her soft words.

"Are you serious? What about your family?"

He turned slightly, his knuckles white from the hold he had on the basket, swinging slightly by his jean clad thigh. "If Dumbledore can protect my family too, then I'd be happy to do what I can. I don't want to be known as I am, Hermione. I don't want you to be ashamed of me. Those drawings you carry shouldn't be the only proof."

She beamed, and their future seemed to brighten with a suns light. She knew his decision had something to do with Theo and their conversation the night before.

"We can go right now! I can owl Mr. Weasley -"

"No," he hissed, coming closer, right to her face. "Not now. Later. When school starts I'll speak with Dumbledore."

"Why not now?"

"I want to enjoy our vacation in peace. Now, nothing more about battles, wars, and sides, okay? Promise me."

She nodded, giving in. Draco Malfoy had just agreed to work for the Order and she would have to be satisfied with that. She was more than satisfied even, she was elated at the surprise, and when he held out his hand she wasted no moment in taking it.

Given that they won the war, she would have to do something for Nott. If it wasn't for him, Draco would have never came to the decision he did. He did what she could not. He changed his destiny.

She leaned into his side, dreaming about the days where they could be together without worry. She thought of sunlit days where they would have picnics outside, teaching how to cook, and laughing with friends, both his and hers. The Gryffindors and Slytherins finally uniting in peace. Though it was doubtful Harry and Ron would ever make peace with him, it was fibers of dreams that she would hold on to.

His joining the Order would change everything, it was one less person to fight, one more person on their side, and they could be together with nothing to hide.

"What's next?"

She smiled. "Picking out a tree. I noticed that your house isn't decorated for Christmas!"

"My parents thought it would be wasteful as I would be the only one home. They also assumed that I'd be spending the holiday with one of my mates."

That was strange, the endlessly rich Malfoy's thinking something would be wasteful. "We'll take it slow. Tonight, I'll teach you how to bake cookies, then tomorrow, bright and early, we'll pick out a tree."

He relented easily. "Whatever makes you happy."

Hermione wasted no time when they arrived at the Manor. She put away the food and set out the appropriate cookware for baking the box of cookies that sat on the counter. She would have rather baked them from scratch, but given that it was Draco's first time, and that he ruined the last meal he attempted, it was better to start off easy.

He leaned on the island at an appropriate distance to show that he had no intention at getting involved.

"Get over here," she commanded as she spun the knob on the stove.

"This isn't necessary."

"You said whatever made me happy," she reminded ripping open the cookie box and taking out the packet. "We're not even doing this by scratch, you have no rights to complain."

He grumbled incoherently, but she ignored him. She gave him a bag of flour and told him to sprinkle the pan. That was when the trouble began.

The bag ripped open and the contents of it flooded out into the pan, over the counter, onto the floor, and onto their clothes. Draco wrinkled his nose in disgust, wiping off his front, but Hermione giggled as it smeared and he swiped harder.

"You think this is funny?"

She nodded, not able to speak, the giggling turning into laughter. She held onto the edge of the counter as she bent over, overtaken by them.

"Very mature, Hermione."

She straightened gasping to speak, but before she could a handful of flour was pushed into her face, shoved in her mouth, and she coughed. She heard him laughing.

With her fingers she extracted the white coat from her eyes, and glared at him. "Yes, that was more mature than me."

The corner of his mouth tilted up into a smirk. It was a dare, and who was Hermione Granger - a Gryffindor - to back down from a dare? She took a handful herself and pushed it into his face, hoping that it went up his nose.

It was childish, immature, and a bit more than cliche, but they threw the flour, it raining down like the worst of all snowstorms. They laughed and teased, and Draco caught her waist, kissing her neck as he dumped the rest of the bag over her head and into her hair. Unfortunately doing the same to him wouldn't have made much of a difference to his.

She twisted out of his grip and they slipped, falling to the floor. They gasped, appearing whiter - though less transparent than Nearly-Headless Nick and the Bloody Baron. She turned her head to peer at him.

"Do you know how to make an angel?"

"Should I attach wings to your back?"

Suddenly she stood and went to the edge of the kitchen. "Wave your arms and legs."

"What in Merlin's pants are you talking about?"

"Do it!"

Rolling his eyes he did as she said. For the second time he incoherently muttered what she presumed were curse words.

"Okay, stop." She grasped his hands and pulled him to his feet and off to the side. "Careful, watch your step." She positioned him in front of the creation on the floor pointing to it. "See, Draco, you are an angel."

He chuckled. "Sometimes, Hermione, I think you really are not as smart as you appear to be. Don't you see, I would not have made that if it wasn't for you, so even at the end of all of this, you'll still be the angel, and I hope that at the end you'll still be mine."

"I'm afraid," she blurted out. "I think I'm getting too accustomed to this."

All humor left him, and his hold on her waist tightened. "I'm not going to lose you. Every day that I spend with you the more I know that I'll do anything to keep you. I don't know how this is going to end, but I won't give up without a fight. I promised I'll go to Dumbledore, and that I will do. I'll do anything."

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes, she could feel that. He'd be safer with the Order, but he would still fight, and the anger it would induce in his former comrades scared her. They would be much harder on him.

She hoped it would be her to go, but the question remained... Was Draco doomed to die?


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Magical Eves

A purple-colored Cordyline (more commonly known as Dragon's Tongue) rested on the pillow greeting her roused body. She grinned at the different kind of flower he left for her there and the meaning he knew she'd catch from it.

Like every morning she dressed, and opened the door to find and hug him, however, he was already there across the hall in front of his own door.

"You don't give me much of a choice," he drawled, his eyes moving upwards, hers traced his path instinctively.

Hanging on the door frame was a mistletoe. She only saw it for a sheer second before he palmed her cheek earning her attention, kissing her lips. "Morning, love."

"Morning," she breathlessly sighed. "How did you sleep?"

"A little rough. It's difficult having you right across the hall and not able to be with you - don't fret, I won't ask you to change your mind."

He didn't know, but it tore at her too. She wanted to be with him, to know what it would feel like, for them to be skin to skin and nothing between them, to see and feel every bit of him. It would be a stamp on their relationship, that they belonged only to each other.

She didn't have a reason for why she refused him. The right moment wasn't substantial. It was because she was scared, and it was irrational. Draco hadn't been with anyone either, that she knew for sure. It was one of the ways he had attempted to gain her trust, in a spell that lit his hands and shown them clean.

"I have a surprise for you," he proclaimed happily, the change of subject drawing her out of her pondering.

"You don't have to surprise me every day. Being with you is enough."

"Humor me," he said leading her downstairs, where the sight of a thousand golden twinkling lights lit the mantle of the blazing fireplace; the branches of the fir tree in the corner. Cranberries and popcorn strung it, tiny green and gold lit balls creating an ethereal glow in the dark lounge. One gleaming present sat under it on a satin green rug, but it was Draco who she looked to, the image shining in his eyes.

It overwhelmed her, the gesture, the work. It was astonishing that just then that it would occur to her, but it did. Draco Malfoy truly did love her.

"You didn't have to go through all this trouble."

"It wasn't trouble, Hermione. I like doing this for you. I want you to be able to remember this. To know that I wasn't such a bad person."

"I know you're not -"

"But where's the evidence," he said roughly. "The kisses? I can kiss anyone, I can tell anyone I love them, give anyone a book. This is your proof, too, that I'll do anything, and my commitment will be proof as well. I won't have you ashamed of me."

She choked, "how can you think that I'd be ashamed of you? We hide because we must. I love you, Draco. You know that. Stop trying to prove something because I'll never doubt you. Ever."

Suddenly, he kissed her, his hand on her cheek pulling her to him. He tangled his fingers in her hair behind her neck tugging her head up for better access to her mouth. He tasted her lips, her teeth and her tongue. He tasted all of her, and for her, there was no better sensation. He was a savor of clean mint and she drunk him in.

When he withdrew she moaned from the lack of contact. She gathered her thoughts quickly, and smiled. "Tomorrow's Christmas. Every eve my parents would read me a story. I brought a book along with me. I'd like to read it to you."

He nodded, and she ran up the stairs to fetch it. On the bottom of her wardrobe was the plain brown book, the binding holding the words, _Magical Eves_. Every magical story there was on the night before the holiday.

Draco was reclining on the couch when she returned. He stretched open his arms and she cuddled in next to him, her entire frame against his. The book's binding cracked with old use, and she read the first page, bringing them into a different world, even from a muggle's perspective. The snapping of the burnt wood and licks of the flames lulled them further into the pages, and into a dream-like state.

He combed her hair, his nose buried into its locks. Within three stories of time she felt his breath slowing and evening. She peered up through her lashes to see the fringe of his white tresses brushing his violet lids , his lips slightly parted. He was beautiful.

Carefully Hermione shifted up sliding the woven blanket over them. She settled back into his arms as they enclosed her securely. She placed her book to her chest and barely kissed his lips, gentle with the pressure to not wake him.

A hidden chime echoed through the bottom portion of the house announcing that midnight had arrived. Lying her head on his shoulder, she whispered to his neck, "happy Christmas, Draco."

Slumber was sweeping over her and through the line that separated her dreams from the reality surrounding her, she heard Draco whisper back, "merry Christmas, my lioness." His lips, warm on her heated forehead trailed over her hairline, down her temple, and over her cheek. The book clambered to the floor.

Gradually she was brought out of her dormancy, her heart kicking hard on her ribs, threatening to break them. She reached to touch his lips, and felt them on her skin. Skin to skin. It was what she wanted, and why was she waiting? It was wasteful when she had him right there, in the perfect moment.

As if he was reading her mind he assured her, "you don't have to, Hermione. We can sleep right here together and I'll be content."

"I want to."

His voice was gravel. "Say it one more time."

"I want you."

"I'll never deny you." His lips crashed on hers, and so did his hands that gripped her sides, possibly bruising them, but she didn't mind. She grappled his back, tearing at the shirt, a layer between them.

It was supposed to be soft and sweet, that was what Hermione shamefully read, but that wasn't sufficient. Nothing about them had been soft and sweet, they were fire and ice, they created smoke and weak puddles. They melted one another, and they melted into each other, their clothes falling to the floor with the book.

She felt his bare chest, his bare hips. The fire cast over his face earning him a sickly tinge, but the sweat that soaked his locks grazed her neck as he planted pecks along her shoulder.

"Merry Christmas, Hermione."

"Merry Christmas, Draco."

The book was opened on an ending page to a long and adventurous story. The ending paragraph read: _She said goodbye to her lover in a wave, her heart heavy as she watched his form disappear. She should've known he'd vanish in a puff of smoke as all ghostly apparitions did, for he was a ghost, and most imperative, he wasn't hers. He never could be, they were of two different worlds that couldn't be, but they were at crossroads, and she vowed to join him soon._


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

A Christmas Surprise

Soft as a feather, something caressed her lips. Her hands searched and felt petals. Her eyes opened to soft light and a white poinsettia. She beamed seeing him sitting by her legs, holding the Christmas flower. He broke the steam and stuck it in her wild hair above her ear.

Hermione propped herself up, feeling something on her thighs, and there was the small box package that had been under the tree the night before. The shiny paper glittered mysteriously, begging to be opened.

"I told you not to get me anything, Draco. I told you that being here with you was plenty."

"Name a time I've ever listened to you and I'll take it back."

Without answering - because she didn't have one - she ripped the paper away to a plain white box. A ring box. She lifted the lid and inside two gray folds was a sapphire ring, dragons etched on either side of it, as if guarding the precious jewel. The silver was intricately designed, even the four eyes were realistic, watching her. She saw her reflection, the shock on her face. She inhaled sharply, quietly.

"Do you like it," he asked nervously.

"Draco, I didn't get you anything half as nice -"

He exhaled, "do you like it?"

"I love it," she breathed. "It's beautiful, Draco."

He took it out of its casing and slid it on her left ring finger. He kissed the ring, turning over her palm to kiss there too before leaning up and kissing her lips. Even after all they had done the night before his kisses still sent shivers through her body. There was longing there, to having him again, but she controlled it, for she had a gift for him too.

She picked the book off the floor, closing it and handed it to him. "Sorry it isn't wrapped."

He seemed confused. "This is my gift?"

"Yes. I know it isn't much, it isn't anything at all. You see, it was a book my mum read to me when I was a little girl. I wanted you to have something like you gave me. Dragons guarding my birthstone, it has so much meaning, and I love it. I don't know if you'll love this -"

"I do," he assured. "Thank you, Hermione. No one has given me something this nice."

"You grew up a spoiled rich kid," she reminded him jokingly.

"I accepted everything that had no sentimental value. I liked all of it - but this, this is from you - it is of you. I'll cherish it."

"There's an inscription." She flipped it to the inside of the back cover, and ran her fingers over the bumpy words written in lovely calligraphy.

He read aloud, "'for my dragon, from your lioness. My heart is with you.'"

"A little much," she asked, her blood racing as she waited for his response.

"It's perfect. It's you." He kissed her once more, lingering there a second over what could have been considered chaste.

"I'm glad."

She surveyed their surroundings, the tree, the lights, the beautiful home, him. Just then she noticed the concert music – _Have Yourself a Merry Christmas_ was playing.

"You really tried to make the perfect Christmas, didn't you?"

"Was I that obvious? Hm, I'm getting rusty."

Draco was wrong. It wasn't perfect, what was, was sitting there with him on the couch. They were together for Christmas, spending it as any sort of family or friends would do. It was comfortable and complete. There was a spot in her that ached for her parents, the Weasley's, and Harry. It ached for the rest of her family, but Draco had too become an essential part. As she knew she wouldn't, she didn't regret her decision to stay with him. Their time was much more limited than the others. Once their vacation was over, they were back to being cold in front of others, and the secret moments they stole after everyone was in bed. Being Head boy and girl of their Houses gave them the privileges they needed to continue what they wanted.

He leaned back, bringing her with him. Straddling his hips she leaned down, her ear to his chest, listening to his rapid heartbeat. "Scared, Draco?"

"Terrified."

"Why?"

"I have a beautiful girl lying on top of me, who gave me the best gift I've ever had."

"The book is not much, I didn't spend a Knut. I don't even want to think what you paid for the ring." It was sure to make her head spin.

"Take it from one of the top five richest students. Money doesn't matter. And, for your information, I wasn't talking about the book - as nice as it is. I was talking about you being here with me. You could've spent your holiday with your parents in Rome, or been with the Weasels. You chose to be here with me, in my house." He tenderly touched her cheek. "You're lying with the enemy, Granger, didn't they ever teach you better?"

She smiled, and felt him do the same. "I could say the same thing about you, Malfoy."

"I reckon we're both in the same boat then."

"What should we ever do about such a situation?"

"I say we make out."

Gently, she slapped his side, and he rocked her as he laughed, his arms constricting hers at her side as he hugged her.

"You're such a git," she told him.

"You're such a beauty."

"You're such a liar."

"You're such a Gryffindor."

"You're such a Slytherin."

"Thought you were supposed to be throwing insults?"

She pressed her lips against his collarbone, and he moaned.

"Yes, that's torture," he muttered sarcastically.

As clear as Hermione would always remember that moment, it was the next that would become as equally vivid. There was the short burst of a roaring of the fire, and out stepped Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy, dressed in their best, but it was their faces she would recall. It was those of murderous stares, and worse, coming from murderers. They stood there, fury and disbelief etched on their faces. Lucius was the worse, and he was the one whose wand was at hand, clutching, twitching it, readying for it to be used. Then, he raised it, pointing it right at her forehead.

Time stood still for a few treasured seconds. She realized how ironic it was, to be fighting with Draco about their fates, about the truth that would undoubtedly be surfaced to the Order about her betrayal. None of it carried any weight when she was going to die at the hand of her lover's father.

* * *

A/N: Yes, I know so many of you saw that coming. Stay tuned.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Resolution

If they weren't being held at wand-point, what happened next would've been funny. With a grunt, Draco rolled her over, and they fell on the floor, him on top of her. Her head exploded, bright stars flashing in front of her, it was only after it dulled that she could feel the pain in her elbows and back, the dead-weight of him crushing her chest. Hermione couldn't breathe, and she wheezed horribly.

"Get off of her," Lucius ordered.

He lifted off of her slightly, but he didn't move, his arms forming a shield around her. "Give me your word you won't hurt her."

"You are in no position to barter!"

"I won't let you hurt her, father."

"Don't be stupid."

"Lucius," Mrs. Malfoy cooed, her hand on her husband's wrist, directing the wand down before speaking to Draco. "Let her go, son. I'll take her."

Draco moved off of her, grasping her arm to help her up, but he didn't release her. Half of his body was guarding her, defensive and protective.

"She will not be harmed. I promise you. Let me take her." She approached gradually, holding out her hand in a sign of peace and promise.

Until Hermione had took her nails out of Draco's arm, she hadn't realized she was digging them in. She looked over Mrs. Malfoy, her eyes, different from Draco's in a deep hazel tone. The wand was in her belt loop, and though Hermione hadn't changed out of her day clothes she had left her wand upstairs in her room. She suddenly felt very foolish.

"Miss Granger, no one is going to hurt you. Let Lucius and Draco talk. Follow me, please?"

She glimpsed up to Draco who nodded once, shortly, his sights directly on his father's wand. It didn't set her much at ease, but she silently trailed after Mrs. Malfoy.

They went into the dining room, the door shut, but the shouting was clear to her ears.

"DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY, HOW DARE YOU BRING A DIRTY LITTLE MUDBLOOD INTO THIS HOUSE! HOW DARE YOU SHAME THIS FAMILY BY SUCH A DESPICABLE ACT!"

Mrs. Malfoy motioned for her to sit down, and she did, in front of the large panned window to keep a watch on her and the door. She was on the edge of her seat, nearly hyperventilating.

She hated showing the helplessness that was apparent. Would they find her body? Harry and Ron would surely notice when she didn't return to school, when they didn't see her on the platform awaiting to board the train. Would they know who to investigate? What about her parents, who would take care of them?

"You're shaken up, poor thing. Do you want some tea?"

"I'm sorry," Hermione asked, aghast.

She sighed heavily, glancing to the door in disgust. "I suppose we have explaining to do. We didn't mean to come back early, I'm sorry we rained on your holiday, but we wanted to be together as a family." With the grace of a ballerina she sat across from her, her hands folded in her lap. "Please, excuse my husband's language. He's a tad upset."

Hermione's head reeled, confused by her pleasantness. From what she had seen before, Mrs. Malfoy had her nose upturned, too good for anyone. The pride of being a rich and prejudice woman whose life revolved around her obnoxious son.

"I know you've been mislead, it was intended. Do you know what happens in a large family? Ideals are passed from one generation to the next, and sometimes, there are black-sheep. In some families, they're accepted, and in others, they are cast out. We burn out the different ones. We lose family, money, stature, and we are put in great danger. The Malfoy's have long been a selective group. We will _kill_ those odd ones. We have before. That is how Lucius and I came to be. Once in Hogwarts I helped a Muggle-born. She dropped her books. It was deserted except for us... And Lucius. He told me that I would be in a lot of trouble with the Slytherins if it was ever known, but he agreed with me. It remained our secret.

"We never hated Muggle-borns. It was a family expectancy that lead us here. We however, do not condone relationships. I do not want my son dating you. I see that you're a nice girl Miss Granger, I see that you care for him very much, but I want him to be _safe_. With you he could never be. I'm sure that your parents would agree."

She squirmed. "Mrs. Malfoy, I would never want to put Draco in danger. We keep up appearances at school. I'm sorry that I came to your house without your knowledge or consent, but..."

"Yes, dear?"

Her vision swam with fresh tears, and she bowed her head in attempt to hide them. She didn't want to cry, not then. They were caught, it was over. She lost him. "B-but it was o-our only ch-chance to be together." She hiccuped. "I'm so-sorry."

"Oh, dear, calm down. Don't cry. Please. We are not angry -"

"YOU MADE A GRAVE MISTAKE, DRACO! YOU PUT US ALL IN DANGER. WHAT IF THE DARK LORD _SEES_ IT IN YOUR MIND?! WE WILL ALL BE DEAD. THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!"

"_I'm_ not angry," Mrs. Malfoy corrected. "Gather yourself, will you? I must speak with Lucius. I'll bring Draco in here. You two can say your goodbyes."

_Goodbyes_. Hermione looked up, but Mrs. Malfoy was leaving, her long dark dress sweeping behind her as the door clicked closed. The yelling died down, and Draco entered, his face paler than she had ever seen it.

Immediately she stood and was wrapped in his embrace. She let the tears fall freely, let herself shake with the sobs that were wracking her body. She tried to speak, but the words were garbled, and he hushed her, rubbing her back.

"Shhh, Hermione. It's okay."

"N-no. Th-this is-isn't o-okay."

" Stop crying, I can't understand you."

She swallowed multiple times, squeezed her eyes shut. It took several deep breaths, but she was able to speak coherently. "Your mother said we have to say goodbye. They won't allow us to see each other anymore. It's..." Trembling, she inhaled again. "It's over."

To her surprise, Draco laughed. "If an entire school, our allegiances, and the threat of death isn't going to stop us, you think my parents will?" He pushed her back, her strength to stay where she was weakened. He peered straight into her watery gaze. "I will _not_ let anything come between us. We made it this far, and after last night... I loved you, lioness, but last night was... I won't even let death break us apart. Do you trust me?"

She didn't trust her voice not to break, but she needed to say it out loud, that she trusted him. "Yes."

Clutching the fine material of the shirt he was sheathed in, she believed him. He fell into the nearest chair, bringing her over his legs. She hid her face in his neck, breathing him in as though it would be the last time. As far as she knew, it was the last time.

It was cut all too short when his parents intruded. With her eyes dry, she saw that the shock and anger were gone, replaced by sadness and remorse. She tried to stand, to be polite, but Draco wouldn't have it, he held her down by her hips.

"What is it, father?"

"Don't speak to me that way," he commanded, his voice sharp as steel. "I deserve respect."

"I'm sorry, father, but with all do _respect_, I'm not going to stop seeing Hermione."

"I know you care for her, son, but she is who she is. It's one thing, having a relationship with a mud - muggle." He looked to her, none too harshly, leaning forward to hold the chair as if for support. He suddenly aged years in the creases of his face.

"I apologize for my language, Miss Granger. It's the habit of the business." He directed then to his son. "It's another having a relationship with one of Potter's best friends. She's practically one of the Order, you could not have been fooling about with anyone more dangerous than her. She could learn secrets in this house that would put us in great jeopardy. Do you know the situation you've put us in? By bringing her _here?_ What do you think we should do? Do not think with your _lust_, Draco, but with your _brain_. Something has to be done. Think of what will happen if the Dark Lord learns of this."

Draco's grip became tighter on her, bruising her, but she didn't dare cry out. She watched his expression, but it was pure determination, there was no contemplation.

"I know you want me to say that I will turn her into the Dark Lord."

Her veins were iced over, the fear that she felt in that statement. She should've known, should've guessed why they didn't kill her. They would extract information from her before they did so. She wouldn't give in, she had to remain the last shreds of loyalty she had, then perhaps she would be remembered for _something_ other than what she had done.

"We will be valued above everyone else."

"Would you turn in mother?"

They both frowned, and Mr. Malfoy guarded. "No, but that is far from the point. Your mother is not a muggle."

"Hermione is muggle-_born_."

"That's the same in our world, don't pretend as if you don't know that. I worked hard to give you a good life and I know you are having fun. She's forbidden that's why you're out of control. This could be a good opportunity, all that I'm asking is that you don't waste it. Don't risk everything on a fling."

"I'm in love her, father."

The chair crashed to the floor, Mr. Malfoy in a fit of rage threw it, one of the legs splintering off, making her cringe. He raked his hands through his hair, pacing to the wall and table. His wand was right there in his pocket, but he didn't reach for it.

Hermione could have been wrong, but she swore that Mrs. Malfoy smiled. If she did, it was only for a second.

"Lucius, love, I think we should let her go."

He rounded on his wife, but with significant calmness and gentleness. "Narcissa, we can_not_ let her go."

"I think we can. I don't think this girl will tell anyone, not even her friend Potter. I think she does love our son. I can see it."

"She could be our deaths."

"She could be our redemption. Tell me you wouldn't die for your son's happiness?" Without waiting for an answer she solemnly turned to Draco.

"We'll let your girlfriend go, but you must not contact her again. You'll stay here, we'll home school you, but you can't see her anymore."

"Mother, no -"

"This is not a discussion, Draco, nor is it an offer - it's an order. You will not see her." She softened. "Sometimes, when we love someone, we have to give them up. There are various reasons, some more severe than others. If the threat of us does not scare you, think about her. This is about her life. You'll ruin it, dear. She's not for our world, she's everything we're not. She'll die if you keep her. Do you want that?"

Hermione noted Draco's vacillation, and shook her head, speaking up for the first time. "We know this, Mrs. Malfoy. We understand the consequences of what we've been doing, and we are willing to take them. We didn't want to put your family in danger, we would never -"

"I know that. That doesn't change the circumstances. We are all in danger, all because of you two."

"We wanted our chance," she explicated desperately.

"You never had a chance. You took something that wasn't yours to have and now you have to give it back. You're free to go without any harm, and I think that is more than fair, it's unjust on our parts. I would take it. Draco will be fine," she added.

Hermione read Draco's pained expression. She never wanted to see it on him again. She caused that. Everything she was, everything she could never be, everything that got in their way was their doom. They had been living a tale out of her - his book. "They're right, Draco. We've put ourselves in a dreadful situation. It's time it ended."

"No -"

"Stop it. We both knew it couldn't last." She broke his grip and slid off his lap. She straightened her wild hair with her hands, her wrinkled slept-in clothes. As she walked past Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, she strongly resolute, "I'll pack my things and be out of here within an hour." It wouldn't take her an hour, but she had to have a few minutes to cry, to let her heart shatter into the pieces it was dying to shatter into.

"Stay the night, dear. You'll be boarding Hogwarts tomorrow, you may as well."

One last night.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

On Board

Draco never said goodbye. For some inexplicable reason she expected to see him come into her room. She waited up, watching the sun rise and packing her belongings. When sleep finally took her in its embrace, she woke herself up by a horrid nightmare. The same one she always feared, Draco dead. Paler, a grayish tinge, eyes open. It was haunting, and she resolved that she couldn't stay there any longer. She had to leave.

She left through the fireplace to a safe pub, and out into the streets. Huddled in her jacket from the snow and cold she waited in 9 3/4 for the train. She found the warmest corner there was, and settled in for hours. Her teeth chattered, her lips blue, but she had nowhere to go.

It was over. She kept repeating that in her mind. She wouldn't see Draco ever again. Their only chance at a reunion was either their deaths, or if Potter won the war and they both survived. Even then, he would likely be in Azkaban for his crimes.

Hermione didn't understand any of it. How could she have allowed herself to fall in love with him? She was smart, and should have known better. Everyone said she was the smartest witch of her age, but she wasn't acting like it. She should be the one thrown into the wizard prison. Her crimes against everything she believed in and fought for had taken a backseat to her dratted emotions for a blond, bouncing ferret. All she wanted, was a chance with him.

At first, it was nice to think that they could have been a shown of change. If Draco Malfoy of all people could set to be an example, then anyone could. That is the way it started out, but it ended on a different note. No longer was it important to set an example to everyone else when the time came. All that was important to her was keeping Draco safe. He was doing it for her too, at least, she thought he was. He didn't say goodbye.

She hoped she froze to death. In a fleeting thought of anger and sadness she thought it would be better if she had just let them take her to Voldemort himself. It was a stupid imagining, not because she would ultimately die, but because he would extract information from her. She had to keep going, she had to make everything right. She would throw herself head on to help Harry and the Order any way that she could. She would fight anyone she had to. Kill anyone she had to...

"Hermione?" A boy called running towards her from across the snowy path. Neville Longbottom, knelt next to her, observing her features. "Damn, Hermione, you're freezing!" He tore off his thick wool coat and wrapped it around her, looking around obviously for some help. "How long have you been out here?"

"Six a.m." Her teeth had stopped chattering thirty minutes ago. She was too numb to feel anything, and that was the way she liked it.

"Bloody hell, why?"

She was taken off guard by his cursing but she answered nonetheless. "Because I had nowhere to go." That hurt to accept.

"What about Harry and Ron? Where are they?"

The Weasley's were always the last to board the train, and because Harry was always with them, he was late too. She wouldn't be expecting them for a while. "I didn't spend my holiday with his family," she vindicated.

"Where's your parents?"

"Home."

"We have to get you inside somewhere."

"No, I'm fine."

"You're freezing, don't be thick, Hermione." He laughed, "never thought I'd say that." He seemed proud of his role.

"You're kind, Neville, but I want to stay out here."

He descended into the snow, holding her close to his chest, rubbing her arms for warmth. His nearness startled her, but she felt comforted. Neville and her were not particularly close, they could be acquainted with the term of good friends. She helped him a lot with his work, most especially with Potions, where his greatest fear of Professor Snape hindered his performance. He used to be a pudgy and forgetful boy, and though he remained a bit forgetful, he had outgrown his baby-fat, the facets of a man taking place. He was handsome.

"Thank you, Neville."

"What are you doing here so early?"

"I could ask you that too." She bit her tongue. She had been with Draco too long, picking up his anti-socialist habit. However, he had the charm she did not, and it sounded unforgivably rude from her. "I'm sorry. I meant... I guess I was anxious is all. I've missed school."

"I was anxious too. My Uncle Archie kept wanting to throw me out the window. That's how they found out I had magic. He thought it was wicked to see me bounce. Grandma right about had a fit when he had one of my legs out of the third story."

She bit her tongue, literally, to keep from laughing.

"Did you have a good Christmas, Hermione?"

"The best." It was the truth.

They sat quietly together, not saying another word. The scarlet train pulled in ten minutes later, the familiar steam curling over its length, and he aided her to her feet. With an arm still draped around her carrying her weight, he left their trunks and packs behind and pulled her into a compartment; they were the first ones there. Heat blew out of the vents, warming her.

"I'll get our things. Stay here. I'll get some hot chocolate too."

She saw the little boy who lost his toad, and cracked. "Neville?"

"Yeah?"

"You're a better friend than I deserve."

Sheepishly, he smiled. "You've saved me for six years, this is the least I can do."

The window of the compartment was fogged, only blurry shapes of people entering the platform was visible. She slipped off her shoes and hugged her knees to her. She wished Neville would come back soon, she didn't want to be alone. When he arrived she received the small cup of hot chocolate, the steam overflowing from the rim announcing it's warmth, and once in her hands it seeped through her gloves to her very bones.

He sat beside her, dropping her pack at her feet.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Will you do me another favor?"

"Sure."

"Don't let Harry and Ron know I'm here. I don't want company."

"Hermione, are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes, it's... Every thing's fine." She shook her head, unable to explain the depth of her pain and forbidden to speak of it. "I want to be alone."

He went to stand, but she held his arm, tugging him back down. "No, please stay. They'll ask too many questions."

Nodding he brought out an Herbology book out of his pack and flipped to the bookmarked page. It was fifteen minutes later, that they heard Harry and Ron's voices approaching.

Neville got up quickly, and peeked out the crack he made in the sliding door. "Hey, Harry, Ron. Have a good Christmas?"  
"Yeah, how was yours," Harry asked.

"It was great."

"Have you seen Hermione? We haven't and she never responded to any of our Owls."

Hermione forgot that they sent Owls. She had been too busy with Draco, and she felt terrible for that. She had always been prompt.

"Oh, she's probably around here somewhere. But, do you all mind if I keep in here for a bit? I never finished my Potions homework."

"No problem, mate, but if you see her?"

"I'll let you know." He snapped the door closed, and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief.

"I owe you a lot."

"That's good, because I really didn't finish my Potions homework."

"Bring it out, I'll work on it with you." She needed every distraction she could manage. All she could see was Draco's face.

The train blew its whistle, and they began moving, leaving Draco behind. She touched her ring, feeling the design of the snake.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Letters

Hera,

That book of yours, I can see what your attachment is. One of the characters is just like you, that girl, Hera. An annoying girl with too much time to study. Fortunately, she meets a handsome fellow that bears a striking resemblance to me.

I know my parents said that I could not contact you, but for all of Merlin's gold, allow us this. If you are shaking your head (as I know you are), ask yourself what more harm it could do?

I miss you. I have your book with me at all times, keeping it in the inner pocket of my jacket. When I need to know it wasn't all in my head it's there to remind me.

You may not believe that, you're likely brooding over the fact that I didn't say goodbye, but there was no reason to say goodbye to you. I won't do it because we are not over. It won't be easy, but lets try, we have nothing else to lose while we bide our time.

It's bleak in the house without you. It's no better that I'm cooped up. Father and mother school me halfheartedly, being called out on "errands." I'm left alone most of the time. Miss the dark dungeons of the Slytherin common room; sneaking out to see you at unreasonable hours.

Forgive me for my selfishness, love, but I'm not giving up. We were denied as we knew we would if anyone found out. We decided to take the chance. I don't know about you, but being told no isn't going to stop me. It's much too late for that.

Write me back, tell me about your day, or about anything.

Landon

So-Called Landon,

Deflate your head. You're going to float away.

You shouldn't have written me! Don't you agree we have done enough damage? Of course, this is all what I should be feeling, but I suppose I'm selfish too. I miss you, and your letter brought the brightest happiness to my day, or week, or however long it takes you to write me again. The next letter will bring a renewed joy.

You're right, I did brood a little over that. Maybe I needed a goodbye, dragon. It's not over, because I can't tell you not to write me. I need to know that you're okay. That you're safe. Write me as often as you can. We'll switch Owls, we'll do something to keep anyone from suspecting.

I arrived at 9 3/4 five hours early. I was freezing, but Neville came and loaned me his coat. Don't get that look, it was not like that. He was being a good friend, and he kept my best friends away with a lie that really wasn't a lie. That makes no sense to you, but I couldn't bear to face them.

School is the same as ever, I'm learning loads, but keeping Harry and Ron is a distraction as always. I can't tell you what they're up to, but lets say it's keeping me on my toes.

Here's a small parcel of my copied homework This way you can keep up with us and not worry.

Sort-Of Hera

Princess,

You couldn't have sent a bigger parcel! It took three owls to bring it in. Damn it, you included the work for extra points! Take it easy!

Stop feeling guilty. We set everyone in danger but nothing has happened. We're safe right now. It's not a promise for tomorrow but in a war that is impossible to have. How safe were any of us to begin with? Relax, love, and get some sleep. I can tell you without seeing you that you are beginning to resemble a badly behaved raccoon. Your friends need you, don't snap at them. They're oblivious gits.

My friend sent me two words today by Owl. It read: We're okay.

I know you were standing outside the door and heard everything. Rabbit escaped with his girlfriend. It'll be the last I hear from him unless we have the future we hope for. If not, I hope they keep a low profile.

Prince

Commoner,

You cannot fall behind. Each of those assignments were important!

We're not having that discussion again! We both know where we stand. You promised. You swore that you'd do the right thing.

I hate saying that you're right. Isn't once plenty? You are right. They do need me and I will try to sleep. I have the same nightmare every night since I left your house. We are fighting in the final battle, and there's a hooded black figure I'm dueling. I kill him, and when I'm about to leave, the hood falls back. It's you, dragon. You are the man I kill every single night. I will see the Madam Pomfrey, I'll take potions for dreamless sleep. You should try sleeping yourself.

Queen

Mis-Informed,

I wanted to do what I promised, but I can't. My parents would never go along with it and now that they know I can't risk them without risking myself. You understand this, so don't write another word on the subject.

For your information, I have been sleeping.

King

Liar,

You're fabricating! You haven't been sleeping.

Know-It-All

Pesky Bookworm,

I am not! I take offense to that! I didn't say they weren't plagued by nightmares, I simply said I've been sleeping. I tell you a half-truth and you have the gall to say I'm lying? You're quite rude.

Fine-Looking Lad

Big-Head,

You're an impossible little ferret! Increase your dodgy Potions skills and brew you a batch of Dreamless Sleep!

Well-Read

Lioness,

I miss you.

Dragon

The fireplace in the Gryffindor common room crackled, sending sparks into the chimney, the portraits of high-class wizards and witches sleeping in their frames.

It was long past midnight and Hermione sat on the floor in front of the coffee table, reading her latest letter from Draco, the ink fresh, wafting to her. The school owl she used was ruffling its feathers impatiently beside the bottle of ink.

All of her school mates were in their rooms, fast asleep. No one questioned her staying up late as she had a tendency to do to overly-correct her homework. Harry and Ron left with good conscious, satisfied with her better mood, though Harry – like Draco in a finer manner – had his suspicions of what she could be hiding, he however, did not press her.

Sleep would soon be upon her, the potion that Madam Pomfrey gave her worked like the charm it was. The only discontentment she had with it was that with the void of dreams altogether, she didn't see Draco. She nearly wanted the nightmares so she could see him.

She dipped her quill into her ink bottle, drops falling onto the yellow parchment, dots of the darkened tone wrinkling. She used to rip the letters with tear stains and start anew. She wouldn't then. They hadn't hid anything before, they wouldn't start then.

My Dragon,

I miss you too.

Your Lioness


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

To The End

It was twelve o' two in the morning; a week later. Everyone had retreated into their rooms for the night, all except Harry, Ron, and Hermione. They remained in the common room, solemnly in the chairs around the roaring fireplace. The ambiance was heavy, akin to what one would expect at the news of a friend's death. In fact, it was very close. They were mourning for many friends that were to die later that morning.

Harry hinted to them to stay afterward, and they brought out their homework as props, but it all laid forgotten on the table. For the first time in her history, Hermione was not going to do her homework. There would be no need to turn it in. The prospect of writing to pretend normalcy was tempting, but the thought of facing the death of people she loved, including Draco, was all too daunting.

"So this is it," Ron commented flatly.

"Dumbledore told me the only Horcrux that is left is Nagini."

"You-Know-Who's snake."

"Yeah. We kill him then we kill Voldemort. That's our goal tomorrow. Unless you'd -"

"No," Hermione and Ron said in unison.

She moved off her chair to sit beside him on the couch, her hand on his, covering the scars, _I shall not tell lies._ "We're in this together."

"She's right, mate. We decided this years ago. We're together to the end, we will see this through."

Harry leaned his head back, the wand trapped between his fingers and palm. Like Mr. Malfoy, he aged. Tenderly she moved her thumb in circles over his knuckles, keeping the scars covered. It angered her to see them, a reminder of what the Ministry of Magic was capable of.

"Sleep, Harry. You're going to need your rest."

"Yeah, mate, you have an entire world to save today."

They all three laughed, but it was haunted. There was that shadow again, like the one that followed her and Draco. She didn't recognize it to be the same one that clung to her and her friends. It was more of a dark cloud, blackened with its load of rain, ready to storm and lash out.

Discreetly, she felt the jean pocket under her school robes. She felt the stiff crinkle of Draco's last letter. She had sent a reply, but it would be her last too. She would never hear a reply. He was awake himself, losing sleep over the war he would have to fight.

"Is Dumbledore sure he felt it," Ron inquired.

"No, but I am. I felt his anger, I saw him telling his followers."

"Was Malfoy there," Hermione asked before she could stop herself. She was lucky that hearing Malfoy's surname name around had been helpful in her calling him that too.

"I don't know. There was a lot of people."

Her stomach plummeted, but there was no need. She knew he was safe then. There was no accounting for tomorrow. With the crowd of Death Eaters, Voldemort wouldn't have picked up unnecessary details from Draco or his parents. He would be too busy organizing an attack plan or at least she hoped so.

Harry heaved himself up. "Lets go to bed. We have until eight."

"Dumbledore will be moving the young ones out, right?"

"At five. He wants them to have plenty of time to get to safety."

"This is really it," Ron muttered. "Look, if anything happens to me -"

"Don't talk like that."

"I need to say this. If anything happens to me, if we win, don't let mum bury me in that horrid Weasley sweater."

Harry smiled sitting back down beside Hermione. "Your mum can bury me in mine. I don't mind. In fact, that's what I want. I want to be buried with my parents in Gordrics Hallow."

"Hermione? Any requests?"

She teared up. "All that I ask is that..."

"Yes?"

"Give my ring to Terra Hills."

Harry and Ron glimpsed at each other curiously. "You've never mentioned a Terra Hills. Who is she?"

"An old muggle friend."

"Should we write any of this down?"

Hermione leaned on Harry's shoulder, fighting a yawn. "No, lets not. Lets believe that one of us will survive to keep these." Quietly, a tear escaped, rolling down to her chin. She refused to think that they would... She couldn't even finish that thought. No, Harry and Ron would make it, they would live to be old men, even if she wouldn't be old with them. They would be wrinkled, Ron still wearing that burnt orange Chuddly Canon shirt at the Quidditch games, beside Harry who cheered rightfully for the opposite team.

She reminisced the past, her days with her parents, her days with her friends, the adventurers she had that hardly anyone could say they had. She knew how lucky she was to have lived the life she did, to have the priceless family and friends that some never experienced in their lives. She knew what love was, and she had it. She completed much in her life, the concept that she wished to complete more was a minor detail. She couldn't ask for more.

She traced the snake on her ring. There was a reason she told Harry and Ron to give it to Terra Hills, Nott's girlfriend. He was bound to tell her about the magical world, and he would see it when the ring was given to her, he would know what it meant, and he would tell Draco, likely giving it to him. Draco would know what happened if he hadn't then. She truly wanted to be buried with it, as a sign of where her heart was, but she had to give him some kind of sign of what happened to her, and possibly it would be his own keepsake.

They never did go upstairs or fell asleep. The Golden Trio sat there on what could be their last day, watching the embers of the late fire pass on, shrouding them in absolute darkness. The snoring of the accompanying portraits were the only sounds that broke the silence until Dumbledore's voice echoed throughout the castle, in the appropriate grave-tone warning that there was a dire situation, and everyone to meet in the Great Hall.

Ron took Hermione's hand in his calloused one. "To the end."

"To the end," her and Harry agreed before they stood up to fight for their lives.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Anyone but Him

Smoke curled into her lungs, making her cough and her eyes water, but that was the least of her worries as she dueled a faceless and short man. There were bouts of fires, crashing stone, and random spots of lights from the roof's holes, crowds, spells flying and people collapsing. There were glass shattering screams, and curses, the earth trembling under her feet.

It hadn't been an hour and the castle was already being torn apart, so many people had died, and Hermione was broken from her best friends. She grabbed at Harry's cloak, clawing until part of the seam ripped, but he was jolted from her anyway, and so was Ron. She yelled their names at the top of her lungs, but no one answered and she worried that that would be the last time she would see them.

She hadn't seen anyone that she recognized or could recognize through the haze. All of her attention was focused on her next defense, her next curse. She did everything to avoid killing, knocking each out. She wasn't made to be a murderer, but for her friends, her freedom, she would be made so if she had to. If she had to...

Outside dragons were soaring, trolls taking bloody steps, a part of the Forbidden Forest ablaze. All of the windows were blown out, and witches and wizards were lined in front of them throwing hexes down at the enemies.

The short man was simple to take down, so simple that all she had to use was a tripping hex, his head banging against the concrete. As soon as he was down, she turned and began fighting again.

Salty sweat trickled from her brow, her face likely smeared in dirt, her hair matted around her face. The next person she was dueling (draped in black) was much harder. His wand movements were advanced, and by the wrinkled state of his hands, he was older. He fought with flamboyant style and didn't seem as tired as she was. She fought twice as hard, her lungs ragged and dying for a clean breath and rest.

Hermione gritted her teeth and continued, refusing to give in and blink. No matter which hex she hurled, he blocked it, but that was all he was doing. He didn't fight back, and she didn't understand why. The first curses that Death Eaters yelled were ones of the three Unforgivable Curses. Whoever it was that she was dueling, was only defending himself. He didn't fire a jinx, much less a curse.

Suddenly, the Wizard charged at her like a bull seeing the waving flag, and he threw her not only back but off-guard. He didn't allow her to fall, clutching her hips. Her heart jumped in her throat, confusion taking place of mere survival techniques and the things she learned in class. It was unprecedented, Death Eaters didn't fight with their hands or fists, they considered it below them.

It seemed as though her travel was endless, but he let go and she tumbled into darkness, against a wall, a door slamming nearby, the noise of the war outside muffled to a rumble. She knew herself to be in one of the closets, one of the many Mr. Filch used for brooms and mops. She felt the handle of one descend over her head, the coiled material of another under her hand, and a bucket on her foot, clanging as she kicked it off.

A light was ignited by a soft, "lumos," and the cloaked man pulled back his hood.

"Mr. Malfoy?" She rasped.

He nodded as he knelt at her feet, eye-level with her. "This has to be quick so I want you to listen closely to me, Miss Granger. You should not be in this war. I'm going to do you a favor and lock you in here."

"No -"

"Hold your tongue!"

Hermione never talked back to an elder in her life, but the thought of Harry and Ron out there somewhere without her gave her the spite she needed. "With all the _little_ respect I have for you, Mr. Malfoy, you will not keep me away from helping my friends. I won't have it!"

"Do you understand what I'm trying to do for you, you insolent little girl? I'm trying to keep you safe! I will have you locked in here for your safety. For my duty, I have Potter's little friend, ready to deliver to the Dark Lord. Your kind will be used as slaves if he has his way, it stands to reason that because I'm the one that kept you from helping Potter, you'll be mine which means you'll be Draco's. Be happy I'm not killing you now and saving us all the trouble."

She caught her breath, but what had been a reaction to the smoke became real tears. "Where's Draco?"

"He's fighting, and I have a good mind to lock him up too. But the Dark Lord will know. This is a chance for my family to prove themselves."

She thought of Draco's promise, and if there was anytime to gather them on the good side, it was then. "Doesn't your son's life mean more to you?"

He flashed dangerously and though she flinched, he didn't raise his hand. "That's why. I know my wife explained us so don't act feign ignorance." He hung his head, and it was the first time that she had ever seen Mr. Malfoy show weakness. "Be safe, Hermione." Quickly, he stood and opened the door.

She lunged at it, her nails raking the wood, but it glowed gold, and she knew it had been locked. She tried the knob anyhow, but it didn't budge. She beat her fists and called his name through the frame, but no one came.

She huffed, wiping her hair from her face. Mr. Malfoy didn't give her credit. She retreated to the corner of the closet, placed the dirty mop bucket on her head as a helmet, and coward. She pointed her wand at the door. "Oblivate!"

It cracked and exploded, wood fragments scratching on her skin, and clinking on the metal. She lifted the bucket off of her head throwing it to the corner of her room and ran forward through the opening. Yes, Mr. Malfoy seriously misjudged her. There was not a spell or plan in the world that would stop her from doing her last and most important duty: Defeating Voldemort.

She ran ahead, searching for Harry and Ron through the ever-moving bodies, but she was stalled when she saw Neville in a wild state, combating a bulky man. Instantly, Hermione jumped in sending a leg-locking jinx that was blocked.

"Hermione," Neville yelled in a gravelly voice.

"Have you seen Harry and Ron?"

"Sorry. Been – a – bit – busy," he grunted, purple flames shooting out from his wand.

"Who's gone?"

"I've seen Colin."

Her stomach jerked. She remembered Colin Creevey, the boy with the camera, always following Harry. He was dead... He was just a boy...

The building shook then, and Hermione looked up in time to see rocks breaking from the ceiling. The dueling ceased, everyone fleeing, people shoving her and Neville aside. She diverted her eyes from a gruesome scene of a pallid man lying in a pool of his own blood.

Neville and her grasped hands and ran. They jumped over the fallen, and squeezed their way through the crowd. Their hands were slick and she dug her nails in, determined not to lose him as she had lost her best friends.

They were forced closer and closer to the wall. Soon she felt a cool breeze pass over her arm, and there it was, the side of Hogwarts blasted open. The night sky witnessing the horror of the ground, tainted with bodies.

Hogwarts... Her second home. It was as though someone stained the most precious pages of her life. Her silly childhood dreams of fantasy that came true, they were obliterating it.

They were pushed a final time and Neville fell, rolling over the side of the building, his hand clawing for leverage as he dangled. Hermione was pulled down, face first on the floor, her feet digging into the stones for leverage.

Blood appeared under her nails where she clung to him. She was losing her grip on him, but all she needed was a few seconds to levitate him to safety, but it was those few seconds that would cost them.

"Let go," Neville bellowed shakily, a steel hold on her wrist.

She pointed her wand at him, but he yanked her nails out of his flesh, descending to the earth, to his death. His body disappeared under rubble and fumes.

"Neville," she screamed, not aware of the tears cascading down her cheeks.

Her friend. Gone. Dead. There was no time to mourn, to think about the boy who lost his toad that became a great man. There was a war that proceeded around her, and if she laid there any longer then she too would join him.

Roughly, she pushed herself to her feet, pushing him from her mind, her wand in hand. She moved forward, breaking out into a run, veering the surrounding battles.

Hermione was not going to lose sight of what she had to do. Neville, Colin, and everyone that lost their lives wouldn't have died in vain. She couldn't allow that to happen, whatever the cost.

Her eyes scanned the tired but livid faces, searching for the ones she best recognized. She searched for Harry and Ron.

She turned a corner into what used to be a classroom, and came upon a semi-tall figure, his wand pointed at her chest. She wasted no time and cast the first curse that came to her mind.

It would be the most significant moment of her life, and each second was ingrained in her mind. The snapping and sparks that shot out of her wand, the bloodied slash across the chest in the arc her arm fell. She stepped in a new pose and struck again. It pounded in her ears, her head, as the Death Eater's hood slipped, revealing white blond hair, pointed features, and widened silver eyes.

Draco. He crumpled to the ground, the blood dyeing his robe, from the rips the insides of his flesh were exposed.

"No," she gasped sprinting to his side, her knees hitting the floor, shooting pain up her thighs.

The people running around them, the screaming and cries fell into a distant roar. They belonged to another place in another time. She was spiraling into a new era, into despair. Everything faded but him, her, together, in the one place she was hoping they didn't meet. She would have given anything and everything to have a time-turner, to turn back the last minute in which she attacked.

He sneered, the familiarity comforting, the weakness frightening. "At least you didn't punch me again," he jest.

"Hold still, I'll get you out of here," she promised, but he grabbed her hand, pulling her down, whispering in her ear.

"Let me die."

She went cold at those words, ice running in her veins. "N-no, you'll be fi-fine."

He shook his head once to the right, once to the left, his eyes hooded. "I'm dying."

The honesty froze her in place. Trembling, she brushed back his damp hair, sweeping it from his eyes. Those eyes were colder than steel, different from his normal tempest.

"Please..." He begged desperately, his voice rattling like that of a Dementor. The death rattle. "Kill me."

"N-no. I wo-won't."

"Make it quick. Do it."

She pressed on his fatal wound. She read it somewhere, to keep pressure on it, but it wasn't helping. Her hand was a bright shining crimson. It dripped off her finger.

"Do it," he begged.

Hermione always did what she was told, and for the first time, she regretted doing what she was ordered. She banished everything else he said and focused on the ones she deluded herself into thinking that mattered. His asking to die, to make it quick. She pointed her wand at his heart, said the dreaded words she thought she'd never say, and in blast of green light that glinted off the ring he gave her and filled her vision and every vision she would have henceforth, she murdered him.

He lied still, his eyes closed, peaceful, a hint of the smirk she loved so much present on his lips. The tears overflowed and dripped off her chin. She was crying but she didn't feel it. She felt nothing but the pain of what she had done. She collapsed beside him, touching his hand, his face, curling under his arm, her tears soaking his shoulder as his blood tangled her hair and covered her.

"I'm so sorry, dragon. I'm so very sorry. It's my fault..." She clung to him, his robe balled in her fist. "I love you. I'm sorry." Her chest exploded and she screamed, though at who, she had no idea. She screamed, it blending with the war encompassing them. She screamed until she became hoarse and could scream no more.

"Please... Anyone but him..."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Over and Over

A wilted flower, a ring, a thousand good memories and one nightmare was all that Hermione had of Draco Malfoy. She wished to bury what he gave her with him, but no one had found his body, nor his parents. She loathed Harry more than she ever had when she was told that they were among those that had perished, and at the same time, she loved it. If there were no bodies, who was to say that they weren't alive?

Those hopes were foolish and risen in vain. Her nightmare was a black hole, swallowing every shred of light she held, but from an objective point-of-view she recognized that she was in denial. She wanted to believe anything other than her own magic.

It was not uncommon, not finding the dead in a battle. Others had not been found, and it was suspected that many had been thrown in the lake as food for the creatures that lived there. In the midst of Wizards and Witches fighting it seemed to be such a petty thing, not anything someone would waste their time doing, but there was those out there who did. It sickened her to think that Draco was thrown out of the window, pitched into the lake.

Even if she waited to bury the gifts at the empty graves, she couldn't bear to part with them. She would surely perish if she relinquished them as she had the most important person in her life. It was all that she had left of him, the only proof that he had existed in her life as he had.

It had been a month after they won the war but it certainly didn't feel like it. Fred, Tonks, Lupin, and so many others had lost their lives and since then, time went by slowly, like a snail, leaving a slime of haunting memories behind.

Even when she traveled to Australia to render her parents memory and bring them back to England, she was sad. Without telling them a word of what she had done, without giving detail of the trauma she'd been through and caused, she respected their wishes to stay, and boarded the plane alone.

Hermione had never been terribly religious, but she remembered how her mother told her of angels, earning their wings to fly with the clouds. Looking out of the plane's window, she wondered if Draco had earned his, and if he was flying among them. It was such a childish dream to go with her storybook tragedy.

When Hermione exited the gate in the airport, she saw a tearful Ron. He told her immediately of Dumbledore's condition, his withered hand, and how the poison had spread throughout his body. He was dead.

She had no tears, as if her tear ducts decided that they couldn't handle such sadness, such shock. In her dazed mind she recalled shaking the hands of fellow mourners, listening to tales starring the deceased, but emotionally, she was as dead as the corpses that were laid in those graves. And no one dared address her, not after she told of Neville's death, a monotone voice to fit the emptiness she felt inside.

It was the last funeral that had her at her wits end. No one came to mourn Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. No one offered to pay for the service, their family long gone, their allegiance gaining them more enemies than friends. They had one left, and it was her.

She remembered what they had done for her, how they could've given her up to their master and earned their respectable position in the dark community, but they let her go. Above all, they cherished their son's happiness above everything, and it was that happiness that ended him.

Few showed for their ceremony, and those that did, did so to support Hermione. They didn't understand why, but giving a fair farewell to everyone regardless of transgressions seemed like a very Hermione-like thing to do.

"It goes without saying that the Malfoys were not good people. They were decent. I believe wholeheartedly that they were not all bad. They were a loving family. They may have hated everyone else that was not a pureblood, but they had goodness in their hearts. In order to love... There had to be..." She closed her eyes, focusing on how the sun warmed her face, how the cotton of her dress felt on her skin. When she opened them, the Weasley's were gazing disbelieving at her. Luna had a slight smile, as if she understood why it was important to her.

Hermione continued her unimportant speech. "They will be laid to rest here." She looked to the stone that bore Draco's name, and her throat constricted, her eyes stung, and she was crying for the first time since she killed Draco. She ran from the cemetery, the Weasley's calling after her. When she could no longer be seen, she disapparated, landing harshly to the ground in the Burrows garden.

Clutching the grass, ripping it from its roots, she bawled, the pain unbearable. Green flashed behind her lids, his still face, the void grave. It wasn't until someone laid a firm hand on her shoulder that she stifled her cries, the cries she had fought against for fear that she would never stop.

Through her blurry tears stood Ron. He gripped the crook of her arm, lifting her to her feet. "You're going to stay here." It wasn't a question or a suggestion. "Mum won't mind, it might help her, what with..."

"With Fred gone," she finished quietly.

Strained, he nodded, "yeah. "

There was a ticking in her chest. Like a bomb on its last seconds she was ready to explode. "I killed him, Ron. It was me. I killed, Draco." And she fell out of his hold, onto the ground, her head in her hands, the tears trickling through her fingers, over her hand to her wrist.

"'Mione," he hushed, kneeling beside her. "You couldn't have done that. You don't have it in you to kill anyone."

She dropped her hands, and disbelievingly stared at him. She screamed, "I killed him! It was me! I cast that bloody curse at him!"

He rocked back on his heels, aghast, but not because of her admittance to murder. He never heard Hermione curse before. She could see that form of questionable startle written on his face, his lips mouthing the words, "bloody."

"It's my fault... I fell in love with him... We were... Dating... Secretively..." She chanced a glimpse at him, but she could see nothing but an ocean, as if she was looking up from the bottom of a lake. "Oh, I'm so sorry..."

Ron wrapped an arm around her, holding her into his side. He didn't say a word, or make any sign that he was going to leave. He let her cry as he mulled over his shock of the news.

Minutes later she went to Percy's old bedroom. Her trunk was neatly put away in the closet, the wardrobe holding her pressed clothes. Everything was in order, and she felt a bit angry at that. There was nothing to straighten up, nothing to fix. There was nothing to do.

In a ball she fell onto the cot and bawled. She closed her eyes but could only see _him_. It was always him, and now, everyone else would know. Ron wouldn't dare tell them, but she would. She wanted them aware of the person that she was.

That night she told the rest of the Weasleys that she was the one that killed Draco. She told them everything, including their love affair. She confessed everything she had done, and she apologized over and over until it became too much. Their skeptical stares was more than she could handle. She ran from the lounge upstairs to the room she claimed slamming the door and collapsing on the bed.

Thundering footsteps echoed in the hallway. Harry yelled, "Hermione!" The door unlocked and he barged in, his wand aimed, sweeping the room for intruders (a habit that could not be broken easily), but at the sight of her he placed it back into his pocket. "Hermione," he sat on the bed throwing her legs over his, placing a hand on her arm.

"He's dead."

"I know."

"He's dead because of me, Harry. It's my fault."

"It was a war."

She pressed her palms against her eyes, hoping for it to stop the tears she shouldn't have been shedding... If she had done the right thing... If she had never dated Draco... Then none of it would have happened. He would be alive.

"I shouldn't have been there. I shouldn't have came into his life. This should have never happened." She shook her head, as if it would turn the time back, like the simple time-turner she had when she was thirteen, but nothing was filming over, nothing was moving, he wasn't coming back. He was never going to come back to her. He was gone. "I knew better."

"This wasn't like you so it must have been important. You don't make mistakes. You're... You're Hermione. Whatever happened is in the past. You proved your loyalty -"

"And look at the cost," she screeched, her blood boiling. "I killed the person I love the most!" She shook her head unable to hear any more about patriotic pride in the face of death. She ran out of the room, strands of her hair clinging to the streaks on her neck. She ran to the bathroom next door, past a frantic Ginny grabbing uselessly at her arm, and banged the door in her face twisting the lock.

"Hermione! Please!"

Like a mad woman she kept shaking her head. She sat on the edge of the porcelain white tub, and buried her wet face in her hands, wailing into nothingness, wishing it had been her. Why didn't he curse her? Where was his instinct? Why did it all had to happen to her? It wasn't fair. She lost enough.

"Can you believe it, mate," Ron said in a loud whisper. "All these years we wanted to take a go at Malfoy, and she -"

"Hermione, listen," Ginny begged interjecting her brother's insensitive joke, "it's okay. None of us are mad at you. Things happen. You're too smart, we know you must've had a good reason, saw something we didn't. Oh, Hermione, I'm sorry. Open the door, you'll see, everything will be alright."

She was wrong. Nothing would ever be alright again. She _killed _him. She did it knowingly and purposefully. Nothing could replace him and nothing could take back what she did. It was over. If she stayed there in the bathroom she would eventually die, just like him. She wouldn't allow her to survive when she did something so horrid as killing the person that went against all odds with her simply because he loved her.

He did love her. He trusted her. It would forever run inside her head like a skipped record. His face and the words, "I killed him." She deserved it. She deserved all of it.

She gripped the sides of the tub and rocked back and forth. "I'm sorry, Draco. It's all my fault."

Ginny's voice came through the door, at a lower level, as though she was sitting there. "It's not your fault. He wanted you to live, so get up, Hermione, and do it. Don't waste what they sacrificed."

"He wasn't your brother, Ginny! He didn't fight for us! He died for _nothing!_" She cringed at her harsh tone. It was wrong of her, to mention Fred, and she opened her mouth to apologize, but Ginny continued, as if she hadn't heard.

"He did have a good heart, somewhere. You had to see that."

Ron's voice was next. "C'mon, Hermione. Don't make us smoke you out."

"Guys? Mind giving me a moment with her?" Harry asked quietly, almost inaudibly.

Footsteps faded with short and low "good luck's" and he went on speaking through the barrier between them more clearly. "Hermione... I wish I knew what to say. I can't say I miss the bloke because I don't. You know how I feel about Malfoy and regardless of his death - however it was caused, and regardless of how you feel about him, it changes nothing. I hate him the way I've hated him since our First Year. This doesn't make anything better, I reckon. But I do feel bad for you. I love you, Hermione, I don't like seeing you go through this. Ginny's right, and I do imagine you saw something none of us saw, I would never think you weren't thinking about it, but... I don't know. I never lost anyone I loved that way. I lost my parents, I lost my godfather, I lost friends... I can't begin to think that this is anything alike, as much alike as any of the feelings for those people are. I don't know if I'm making sense here. I can say that it will be okay. Maybe it doesn't feel like it now, but it will. If I can survive through everything I've been put through, so can you. You're strong, or else you could've never stood to be my friend. Please, come out."

Her tears and shaking ceased, listening to him. It didn't make anything better, it didn't stop the pain that was breaking her in shards that would prick anyone that came close. However, it did something she didn't foresee. She wanted someone there, and Harry of all people was, despite his detest for his enemy, despite her lies, and despite that he was never one to speak of feelings.

She opened the door, Harry standing a lot closer than she thought, his forearms on the frame. She took notice then, how his eyes were sunken in, his hair more wild than usual. She had been so selfish to think she was the only one that was saddened. Of course that was not what she was truly thinking, but her actions had been the same.

Hermione rushed into him, her arms circling his waist, her face hidden in his chest. Through her stuffed nose she could catch the hint of smell of him bringing her comfort.

Slowly, he held her, holding her closer. He patted her hair and shushed her.

"I'm sorry, Harry, for everything."

"Shhh, it's fine, Hermione. Everything is fine."

"It's too hard. I can't understand why I'm still breathing. I don't know how I'm enduring this. I don't. I shouldn't."

"We do what we have to. Do you want to be alone?"

She sniffed and nodded.

"Lets go to Grimmauld Place. We can set up a room for you there."

She thought of the place that he called home. It would be much better, away from everyone. _Everyone but him_, she thought, clenching his arms like he would disapperate at any moment. "I'd like it if you were there with me." She burned at the words.

"Okay, I'll be there."

"Thank you."

"Anytime. You know that."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Scarred Hands

Hermione extracted every article of clothing from the borrowed wardrobe and packed slowly. With the aid of magic she pressed each one, and did the rest by hand, folding them and separating them in the trunk by type and color. She closed it slowly, and latched every buckle with care and precision. By hand she took it and set it to the floor on its wheels.

She did everything slowly since that day, but nothing else seemed to move faster, not time, or the broken heart that time was supposedly to heal. Even so, she knew the truth behind that silly myth. Time didn't heal anything, and the problem with that was that some people were too broken to fix. Scarred hands didn't always work.

It was not like she particularly wanted to be fixed. That was something that she didn't merit. None of the good she had done in her years seemed to matter anymore. Nothing did... Except her bravery to keep breathing. Her family had enough tragedy, without her offing herself. Whether it was brave to keep going or to give up, she didn't know, but she opted for the one that caused the least pain to those around her.

How anyone could love her after what she had done... That was another thing Hermione didn't know. The repercussions of murder and loved ones deaths was not a focus point in school. It wasn't in her books. There was so much then that she didn't understand. She was supposed to be smart...

It was tempting to go back to her parents. She could travel the world with them. Forget everything and everyone associated with the life she had been living since she was eleven. Whatever kept her hanging on, she hoped it would reveal itself. She wanted to face everything for no reason other than she wasn't afraid of anything else but the past.

She had a plan. Hermione Granger was going to find a job, a career to take up her time and her thoughts. She would never be alone again, comforted by the idea of paperwork that would accompany her when Harry was not there.

Harry was her savior. More hers than the whole Wizarding world. He camped out at her door the night before, ready for her nightmares. When she began to cry he had rushed in, woke her, and fell asleep on the floor next to the bed as she attempted sleep once more.

What she would ever do without her best friend, she didn't want to imagine. What she'd do without any of them...

There was a short knock on the door, Mrs. Weasley hesitantly coming in. She observed the clean and organized room. "It looks like you're all set to go."

"I'll be out of your way soon."

"You were never in the way, dear." Slowly, she reached to touch her hair, her brown eyes shining. "You're so grown up. I remember when you were eleven. Ron wrote home telling us everything about you. They weren't always good things, mind you, not in the beginning." She exhaled in bursts, "we'll miss you."

"I'll see you soon. I won't be far."

"Oh I know that. Every Saturday the family comes together, you and Harry are expected." She inspected her face, reading what Hermione didn't divulge. "Have you spoken to your parents lately?"

"Yesterday. They're well, they want to stay in Australia a while longer before going to Paris."

"That's nice, but don't they think that you need them right now? After all that's happened they should be with you."

"They don't know. I don't want them to know how much danger I was in. That I'm a -"

She sharply cut across her, a strict finger pointing at her. "Listen here, Hermione. You did what you had to do. No one judges you for that."

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley." Hermione felt the bumps of her suitcase, her fingers tracing them.

Mrs. Weasley hugged her tightly, kissing her cheek. "Everything will be fine. They didn't die in vain." With every effort she had in those dark dys in the wake of the death of her son, she smiled warmly. She left, and outside Hermione could hear her fussing at Ginny for lying her socks on the floor.

Shyly, Harry peeked in. "Ready to go, Hermione/"

She threw a bag over her shoulder as he came in to pick up the two suitcases. He grunted at the weight of one that held her books, or what him and Ron would call her mobile library. Woe to be them if she actually had _all_ of her books. Most of them were with her parents.

At the return of Voldemort, Hermione went to her parents one last time to alter their memory. She wanted them safe. With that altered memory, she dropped off her storybooks that had little purpose in being with her. Only one storybook was missing, the one she had given to Draco. She assumed it was at the Malfoy Manor, likely the Ministry of Magic sold it with all of their other belongings.

Number 12 Grimmauld Place had been transformed. The blackened shingles were replaced with steel-colored stone. The front door no longer bore the snakes handle. In fact, there was not a shred of evidence that any memorabilia of Slytherin and Dark Arts pride ever existed. The house was light and breathable, and she suspected that Harry widened the hallways, for it didn't feel as cramped.

"This is lovely. You do brilliant work." She tilted her head up admiring the sky blue paint, the staircase in white.

"Afraid I can't take all of the credit. Luna and Dean helped."

Then she saw their touch, tiny intricate designs painted above the doorways. There were non-existent creatures, flowers, and tiny yellow sparks. Those had to be Luna's. She could see Dean's work with lions, badgers, snakes, and ravens, each animal a representation of each House in Hogwarts. She could see that Luna added ivy to them, connecting them through the swirls.

Harry led her up the stairs, all the way to the topmost floor into the third hallway lined with rooms. He took the first door on his left, flicking his wand. The suitcases that had been trailing them fell a foot to a loud crash.

She inhaled sharply, recalling with sound of the crumbling castle. That itself brought the sights that she would never forget, the fighting, the screaming, and the bodies. Draco's... The blood he was being soaked in... He was so pale, so lifeless...

She was lost in that time, pressing her back to the door, her wand in hand, shaking terribly. The tears wouldn't fall, not then. They couldn't, not with the pressure on her chest, the feel of the castle falling on her. It more than hurt, it was barely keeping her alive. Barely... The pain wouldn't let her go easily. It would never let her die.

"Hermione! Hermione, it's alright."

She focused on her surroundings, Harry's eyes, the firm grip on her shoulders. He shook her, and she blinked, her lids fluttering as tears pressed on them, her wand pointing at his chest, and she lowered it immediately, shocked at herself.

"I'm..." She swallowed continuing to tremble as though she were knee deep in ice. "I know..." Shaking her head didn't rid of the images of his body. She felt herself breaking and looked away. "Please Harry..."

Slowly he released her, unsure if she'd lose it again. He didn't deal well with tears, she knew.

"I need to unpack," she cracked.

He nodded, touched her elbow, and left. At the click she slid down the wall, the room in ripples, her wand hanging limply from her fingers.

She felt the familiar curves and knobs of the vine wood. As a child it had been hers to work charms, to defend, to aid those that needed it. It served her perfectly. As an adult, it was used to kill. Like herself, it was tainted. The wand she held so dear took away the life she wanted to be with. And that day, she almost attacked Harry. Her best friend. Harry, good and brave, loyal and kind.

Hermione didn't deserve the wand. She didn't want it. She loved magic, but her guilt was stronger. As long as she carried the weapon she could cause pain. The power of it all was in her hands, and no one seemed to care enough to stop her. They trusted her too much. They didn't know, how it felt... It was bad enough to watch someone you loved die, but when you're the one... Purposefully...

With renewed strength and will, she threw it into the drawer of the bedside table. The snap of the wood as she pushed the drawer in was final. It was seemingly like that of her past. There was no changing it. She couldn't go back... Too many things had changed... She had changed.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

Monster

The bedroom inspired the sun with its bright yellow walls, a single sunflower in a green tinged bottle on the bedside table. There was a balcony beyond the bay windows that generously allowed the sunlight to rouse her in the mornings. She greeted it every day standing outside overlooking the rest of the small city, its winding streets and high chimneys.

The wand stayed in that drawer absorbing the dark. It was rather appropriate... Harry had no clue that she had given up her magic, not even when she cooked breakfast for the two of them on their first morning. He asked her why she wasn't cooking the magical way. To that she responded that she grew up doing things by hand, her parents not wanting her to be spoiled, and the subject was dropped there, but it would come up again. Eventually he'd notice that she never had her wand and she'd have to explain, but for a little while she would live in peace.

Down the hallway from her room was an expansive library. She spent the entirety of her days there until it neared time that Harry would come home, and she would cook and vigilantly think about what she wanted to do with the rest of her very long life.

Her greatest ambition growing up had been to own a bookstore. At least it was what she wanted in her muggle life. If she was to fully return to the Wizarding world she was sure that she'd be a lawyer, improving the system that Death Eaters and like-minded Wizards and Witches made, but it wasn't in her to do so. She did want to do something meaningful, and perhaps, some way, she would stimulate someone like Harry or Ron to read. She'd be good in the community, and she would do book repairs on the side.

There was more to it than following a past and void dream. More than giving up her wand because she felt unworthy. She wanted to show that she could do good, that muggles made a huge contribution. Without them, the magical world would have died out. It was a perfect choice.

Little did she know that her inner wish for normalcy and a job would practically fall into her lap...

On her third day she had gone out to shop for food. That was when she saw it: the 'for-sale-sign' propped in a display window of a small gray building. She cut her shopping trip early to go inside. It was quaint, dark cherry furnishings and scattered reading lamps. The books were old and musty, causing her to sneeze.

She worked on autopilot, it seemed. She asked a young blond for the owner who beamed and nodded so fast that it could have been caused from one too many cups of coffee.

The owner was an elder man, balding, inclining heavily on a knobby cane. She expected to come back to have show her credentials, but it was hardly an interview. The man appeared to be relieved to have someone take over for him.

"I've been runnin' this place for fifty years. I need to move on! All these moldy things, they act up my sinus'. I don't care who yeh are. Take it."

For a small price in muggle money, her signature on a carefully read document, she owned Booknook.

That night over their steak dinner, she told Harry of her new story.

"That's great, Hermione," he said cheerfully, a spark of hope rising in him. "I've hated leaving you here."

"You have a job, Harry, and it's not looking after me."

He frowned, pushing the corn with his fork idly. His glass was nearly empty, but he barely touched his food. It was not that she was a bad cook, she was pretty decent. Something else was troubling him.

Since their first year at Hogwarts, Harry kept her safe whether it be from trolls, snakes, or Death Eaters. The danger didn't matter to him, he had walked through fire before. And she loved the enemy. Even with that knowledge his love didn't falter. He had grown and became more tolerant than he was as a child. He wasn't a boy anymore.

She realized then that Harry was not doing her any favors out of obligation. He _liked_ helping her. He _wanted_ to help her.

"Harry, I am grateful. You've been more of a friend than I deserve. I owe everything to you."

He coughed, pitching his napkin on the table beside his plate. "Just get better." The chair scraped as he stood and walked to the door.

Biting her lip to keep the easy tears at bay, she leapt up and ran to him. At the door, against his back, she hugged him. She hugged him as tight as she could, and surprisingly she felt his rough hands over hers. It felt good. It felt real.

"I'm sorry." There was nothing let to say - nothing that would suffice.

The sinews of his muscles relaxed under her touch. "I'm doing everything I know to do for you. What else can I do?"

"I hurt you. I'm so sorry, Harry."

"I know you are."

She cried then, spotting his cotton shirt and he turned holding her to his chest. "I... I'm not good at this, Hermione. Please... Don't cry."

"I'm sorry... I can't seem to stop. When will I stop? What would you do? If you lost Ginny?"

He tensed once more. "I don't know... I thought about it a lot, but there was nothing more that I could do. You did everything you could. Malfoy was going to join our side. That's... Unbelievable. Some part of him must've loved you."

"What would you do?"

"I don't know... You always do the right thing, Hermione. You did what you had to."

No. That wasn't right. She didn't have to kill him. She could have saved him. That was the most dreadful. It wasn't only his death, it was his life at her hands. She found a part of herself that she didn't know existed. Much like Draco had, except hers was much darker. She was capable of killing the person that she loved most.

Harry scooped her up, carrying her up the endless staircase to her room. Gently, he lied her on the bed, the supple mattress forming to her figure. Sleepiness begged to give her escape. There was a chance though, that the uncertain darkness would bring nightmarish realities.

She hadn't slept in days. She stayed bundled up on the balcony, reading. Always reading. One day, she wouldn't be able to read anymore. One day, it would all crash down, every second that she tried to wrongly escape from it. That was the day she would die.

"Stay with me? Please, Harry."

He said nothing, but she felt him move next her, the mattress shifting. Without asking she curled up under his arm, listening to his heartbeat. It was a gentle thud. Thud... Thud... thud... She decided it was her favorite lullaby.

"It'll be okay."

"No," she exhaled. "It won't."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Yes."

"You really did love Malfoy, didn't you?"

"Inexplicably."

"I agree... Inexplicable... It felt like..." He struggled with his words. "Betrayal. He was a Death Eater, he got the Mark. I can't understand what made... How it happened..."

She bristled. "Did you ask to be the Chosen One?"

"No."

"He didn't ask to be what he was. When it came down to it, he wanted different."

"I don't know..."

"I do," she snapped harshly. "I'm not as perceptive as Luna, but I'm not blind." Each syllable was filled with venom. She flinched, resting her hand on his chest.

"I trust you."

"You shouldn't." No one should ever trust her again.

"There was something that Sirius said to me once... There was no light or dark in someone, there was a bit of both. You're not pure, but you do what you thought was right. No one blames you. It was what he wanted. If you didn't grant him his wish, and he died, you'd feel worse. He would've suffered. You killed him because you loved him. It's not always so complicated, Hermione."

She sighed, exhaling his words from her head, because they could have stuck. Then, like a thick blanket, silence fell over them, and she slipped into a dreamless sleep.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

New Beginnings, Old Reminders

It was a new beginning. A fresh start almost. Turning the sign on the shop door to read 'open' was like turning over a new page in her life.

Busy with the upkeep she hardly had time to think of anything else, and that was the point precisely. She didn't want to think of anything but the present, the tasks at hand. At work she listened to the dating tales of Amanda, the pretty blond that was as peppy as a child with a handful of Chocolate Frogs. At night she listened to Harry's heart, counting the beats until she fell into slumber. If she let herself stray the slightest bit, then she would think of all of the things that drowned her in depression.

Harry had taken the undertaking of cooking supper, and if she was late it remained heated for her. She was entertained by his Auror stories as she ate, and when done she washed the dishes while she continued to listen, giving appropriate responses. She laughed, gasped, and smiled like the best audience.

She washed everything. Every Saturday and Sunday she'd clean the many rooms, not allowing Harry to lift a finger, or wand to help her. Doing it the muggle way took more effort and time, two things she ran for.

"You're going to be sick," Harry would say.

Terribly she thought if she died it would be exactly what she'd have coming. It drove her further, harder, and indeed as Harry warned, she became sick.

She was tired, nauseous. She had never regained her coloring since the war; the dark crescent moons under her eyes was a regular fashion. However, she looked worse. It didn't seem plausible, but it was in the pallid of her skin. It was a different twist to the lifeless appearance that she physically presented.

"Go to the doctor," he persisted every day for a week. It was a nightly ritual, as he lied with her on the cold nights. Instead of bidding goodnight, he'd say, "go to the doctor."

Hermione never responded. She couldn't allow to be poked and prodded and to be well. After all, Draco was dead. He was dead and she was sick. Sick with grief.

One morning, like every other morning, she woke. Harry wasn't beside her as per usual, cooking breakfast downstairs. Very faintly she could smell the bacon as she stopped on the last step. It turned her stomach.

Harry met her there, not asking why, but giving her the disapproved glare that he had to have gotten from her. They had known each other too long...

"Come, tuck in."

She shook her head, almost inconspicuously. "I'm not hungry."

"That's it," he spat, wiping his hands on the dishtowel that was draped over his shoulder. He withdrew his small mobile from his pocket, dialing quickly.

"What are you doing?"

"Calling into work for you."

"Don't," she ordered uselessly before she lunged for the device, but he caught her waist, her back to his side. No matter how she turned she couldn't reach it or break his hold on her. It was infuriating.

"Hello, Amanda? This is Harry Potter, Ms. Granger's roommate. Could you take over for her today? Yes, she's sick, I'm taking her to the doctor. I'll tell her, thank you." There was a click and he let her go.

She rounded on him in a fury, her face tomato red. "How dare you!"

"You're sick, Hermione. Stop being impossible."

Her breath came rapid. He had no right, she was _fine_. She was living, her heart was beating, wasn't that what counted?

"Sit down."

"Stop telling me what to do, Harry Potter! I'm perfectly able to take care of myself!"

"That's why you're living with me," he shouted sardonically - cruelly. "That's why I've slept next to you for a bloody _month. _You _can't_ do this on your own, I'm telling you because it's what you told me years ago. Are you a hypocrite now?"

Hermione could have cried or screamed, or even lunged at him again. She had never been so mad at her friend. She could have done a number of things, but her body decided for her.

The edges of Harry's face dimmed, and she descended into blackness.

Thirty minutes later Hermione was gradually sitting up with the help of a Healer named Courtney. She recognized instantly the blinding whiteness of the walls and ceiling of St. Mungos. If only she had her wand... She'd curse Harry.

"There, there, that-a-girl," the peppered woman muttered. "How do you feel?"

"Sick, ma'am." Her head was spinning.

"What are your symptoms?"

"Pardon me, ma'am, but I just want to go home."

"Mr. Potter tells us that you've been ill for a while."

She huffed, gripping the rough mattress beneath her. "I lost a lot of friends in the war."

"Hmmm... we've gotten this often. Tsk, tsk, that war was horrible. Lucky me, I slept all the way through it, right on my couch."

Hermione glowered at the woman's lack of tack, but she had little energy to storm out.

"I've been in this profession a long time. I've got an intuition about things, you see. Will you let me run a few tests on you I'll let you out in a jiffy if everything checks out."

Relenting, she nodded. "You may."

The Witch whistled happily as she moved her wand over Hermione. She knew jiffy to be an actual measurement of time. It was not even a half of a second. Counting the seconds it was taking, she considered getting her wand. Then, the whistling stopped.

"Wait here a minute, dear. I must check something." She scurried out the door.

It hadn't closed when Harry invited himself in. His face was defiant as he took the chair beside the bed.

"I told you no," she said.

"You also told me to read that four inch book and I haven't."

"I'd think you'd take a bit more interest, that book is about the history of your career."

"And I care about nothing except catching the dark Wizards - and Witches," he added at the dangerous look she posed.

"I'm so sorry," she declared sarcastically.

He leaned forward, taking her hand. "I don't want you hurt, I don't like seeing you like this."

She softened. "Oh, Harry, I know. I've been such a hopeless wreck. I can't change what happened."

"You can't," he agreed hurriedly, but he frowned when she dropped his hand.

Unable to look him in the eyes, she stared down at her hands, twisting them in her lap. "I... I need to move on. I can't stay with you forever."

"You can if you want."

"No. I'm not holding you back anymore. You've hardly talked with Ginny. She needs you."

He opened his mouth to speak, but then Courtney returned, her violet robe sweeping around her like a purple bat. There was a glittering smile on her face which made her uncommonly vicious looking. If a kind, but misunderstood lady could be.

The next words the bat spoke brought down the sky.

"Congratulations. You're pregnant."

There was a full minute of heavy silence before Hermione could speak. Harry looked like he never would again.

"That's... Impossible."

"I suspect your two months along, the baby is very healthy, so you may leave when you wish, but I must affirm the importance of taking care of yourself. The baby depends on you.

"Good day, and congratulations again." The Witch still continued to smile as she left.

Pregnant... There was a baby inside of her, but how? She thought back, to two months ago when the war hadn't taken place. She had been in school, except for the winter break. She had been with Draco. It was a lifetime ago. Several lifetimes, but that night... It was her favorite memory.

_ Draco tangled his fingers in her hair behind her neck tugging her head up for better access to her mouth. He tasted her lips, her teeth and her tongue. He tasted all of her, and for her, there was no better sensation. He was a savor of clean mint and she drunk him in._

_ She felt his bare chest, his bare hips. The fire cast over his face earning him a sickly tinge, but the sweat that soaked his locks grazed her neck as he planted pecks along her shoulder._

Harry's eyes were wide, staring at the door. "I have a right mind to ask for another opinion."

She shook out of her thoughts. "No... She's right..."

"Hermione, the woman looks like she's off her rocker. I'll go ask for another Healer."

Her voice rose. "No. I am. Two months ago... It was winter break."

"You didn't spend it with your parents, did you?"

Her hands were becoming sore, twisting them over and over. "His parents were away... It meant something," she added firmly, touching her stomach though there was nothing to feel. To know that there was something in there, a little life. Draco last present, accidental as it was.

Harry pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. Then he peered up at her, and forced a painful smile. "What are you going to do?"

"Keep it, of course!" She was offended.

"No, no, that's not what I meant. Can I ask you something?"

She hesitated uncertainly. "I know you're noble, Harry, but please don't ask for me to marry you."

"No! don't get me wrong, you're lovely, but -"

"What is it?"

"Stay at Grimmauld's with me. There's plenty of room, and I can be there to help."

"I told you, I"m not going to hold you back anymore. Don't you think it's time you talked with Ginny?"

"Her brother died. Whatever she says about not blaming me is rubbish, because I can't look her in the eyes anymore."

"Then who can you look at? Loads of people died in that war. You can look at me."

He did, his downcast eyes meeting hers. "You aren't Ginny. You're my best friend." He stood, his gaze remaining on her. "Will you stay with me?"

It occurred to her that perhaps Harry needed her as she needed him. Neither of them could be with who they wanted. Why not be with each other?

"As long as you want me to," she answered.

"Us," he corrected glancing to her stomach.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

The Passing Time

Each month passed faster than the last. Hermione kept a calendar, marking off the days. In her second trimester she began placing headphones on her round belly. The baby kicked happily to the classical music. She also read aloud every other night taking turns with Harry, but he would read off the Quidditch scores, and the articles Ginny wrote about them. While he did that she would read every pregnancy book from her bookstore, agonizing over the details that Harry soothed her about.

Amanda made her sit and rest the moment that she walked into the shop. Hermione had the idea that Harry prompted her to watch over her, but she didn't argue, glad to have been out of the house. If it was anyone's decision she'd be at home, bored out of her mind, and worrying herself into St. Mungo's.

On Sundays her and Harry had supper at the Burrow with all of the gathered Weasleys. That was aside from Charlie who returned to Romania and its dragons.

She was frightened to go the first Sunday they were invited, to tell them the joyous news. It was joyous for her, but for the rest of the family... Her parents sent an exited letter to her, but she couldn't expect the Weasley's to share that outlook. After all, they had met Draco.

However, to her great shock, they were happy. The men were disgusted - of course - they didn't have the females compassion. Yet, every one of them congratulated her all the same. Even George (whom she doubted). It was his twin that died at the hands of what Draco was, the wound still fresh, and she felt reluctant to look him in the eyes. When she did he was smiling, and she smiled in return.

Molly had knitted a basket full of baby clothes, among them a baby's first Weasley sweater, a Slytherin green with silver cuffs. It made everyone else look on with disdain, but Hermione loved it, her eyes instantly filling with tears. Draco would have loved it, though he would've never admitted it.

Ginny and Fleur cooed to her stomach weekly hoping anxiously to be kicked. The men made a bet on the date it would be born. Every inch she grew the amount of money increased.

Ron frequently prodded the baby and chanted, "be a Gryffindor, be a Gryffindor," which every time earned him a light slap from his mother.

George laughed at it once, playfully pushing his brother aside. "You know it'll be a Gryffindor. Look at its mother."

"But Malfoy," he wrinkled his nose.

Everyone else may have changed, but Ron stayed much the same as he was when he was a boy. He held a deeper prejudice against Slytherins than even Harry. It was as though their roles reversed. Ron wasn't equipped to deal with such anger and sadness, but Harry's life was made out of it, and he chose differently after Voldemort's fall. At Fred's death, Ron picked it up and carried it with him.

"Time to grow up, Ronikins," George said seriously. "Anyhow, Malfoy wasn't all bad. He was a creepy little git, but he could've been his father."

Hermione beamed. "Thank you George."

"No problem, but if it turns into a Hufflepuff you have explaining to do!"

Molly, passing on her way to the crooked stairs, slapped him too, but harder with the ladle she held in her hand.

Although Hermione's life was consumed with reading baby books, obsessing over the things that could happen, she didn't miss the looks Harry and Ginny threw to each other when they thought the other wasn't looking. They were both of heartbreak, but Ginny's was more tragic, like she had lost hope for the two of them completely. Through seven years Ginny held on to the idea of being with him, she had him for such a short time before it all came crashing down.

"He's going to be a good father," Ginny said matter-of-factly, rubbing Hermione's growing stomach.

"He's the uncle."

"It won't be that way. Harry will raise this child as if it was his own. I think he wants that, to have a family."

Hermione couldn't deny that. All Harry ever wanted was to be settled with a family. "It's not that way between us."

"I know, but someday it will be."

"I won't do that to you."

She shrugged, but kept her gaze down. "I'll always love him... But if he's happier with you, then so be it."

"It's not that -"

"It's guilt. Over Fred, over what happened to me at Hogwarts with the Death Eaters. He's won't ever let go of that guilt. And that's fine." She stood, looking out of her window overlooking the land that her and her brothers would play Quidditch on, and her brother Bill was married.

"It is?"

"My dad became bonkers over the post office a fortnight ago. He went in to ask them all sorts of questions, and there was this man..." Ginny blushed as red as her hair, and her hard brown eyes glowed. "He's great, he really is. So funny it could put Fred to shame."

"I'm happy for you, Ginny."

She turned to her, her arms dropping from being crossed over her chest. "I'll always love Harry, but not in that way. We... Just can't."

Not once in all the years that Ginny fawned over Harry had she ever thought of them having any other future but each other. They both knew it was over, and had all along.

"Promise me, you'll take care of each other?"

"Of course, Ginny."

The months continued to pass in a glow. Hermione couldn't have been better. Before she knew of the baby, she thought she wouldn't be happy again, but she was getting a part of Draco. She hoped the baby would have his hair. It was a great worry of hers (one of the many) that it would have hers.

She got her wish. For after hours of labor gripping Harry's hand, she was holding her little girl in her arms, frantically counting her fingers and toes (all accounted for). She was gorgeous, blond hair and the blue eyes from her grandfather. She was perfect.

Harry kissed her forehead that night, his hand lightly bandaged on the bundle. "You were brilliant."

"So were you."

"Have you decided what you're going to name her?"

"Yes. Kaida Harmony Granger."

"Meaning?"

"Kaida means little dragon. After Draco... Harmony for the peace that came out of two rival Houses, a Pureblood and Muggle-born. I thought it... Fitting."

"It is. It's... Perfect. She's perfect." He swept his fingers over the baby's cheek lovingly, like a proud father would.

She looked to Harry, and indeed, he looked to be a new father. He was glowing like her, the first real smile she'd seen on him in almost a year.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

The Proposal

Four months passed in the same haze that the former nine had. It was filled with laughter and worries, and light. Hermione left Booknook in the capable hands of Amanda, who called so often for advice that Harry kept her number temporarily blocked.

Hermione was happy in a way she hadn't been in her life. That bundle that she held and adored and loved more than anything or anyone else, gave her meaning. The past events made better sense, but it didn't take away the pain that she felt over the loss of Draco. That would always remain a hole in her chest.

Harry assisted her in every way that he could. Many nights he would attend to Kaida's cries, changing her, making her laugh. When her first tooth came in, he held a Hippogriff-shaped teether to her cut gum, rocking her until she slept.

One night he laid on the floor, snoring softly, Kaida lying on his chest asleep. The teether laid beside them, forgotten on the floor in place of their dreams. In her nightgown, Hermione paused in the doorway. She smiled upon the unknowing two.

Against her will, she envisaged a different world, where it was him that Hermione had fallen in love with, pregnant with his child. He would be lying there, and it would be their daughter asleep in his arms. There wouldn't be the guilt, she wouldn't have mistaken him in the war.

Draco would have been alive...

The vision didn't last long. It faded by the reality of Kaida's cheekbones, blond hair, the facets of her physical traits. She wasn't Harry's child, she was Draco's. Nothing would change that.

Hermione had come to accept that there would come a day where she and her daughter would have to leave. It was inevitable. One day he would meet someone, get married, have children of his own. Harry had done more for them than he had to. He was acting as father, and it tore her up to think that he was a temporary step-in for Draco.

They had more than their fair share of arguments where she attempted to talk to him about his future. She knew from word of mouth (Ron's), that he had turned down five dates in the past month. According to her source, they were catches, and she couldn't help but know that Harry rejected them because of her and Kaida. Dating would mean eventual change, but that change had to come. It was time that he moved on, and stopped using Ginny as a cover, because he barely thought about her anymore as anything other than a friend. His life revolved around Kaida, it left little room for much else.

Across from their bedroom was her baby's. It was decorated in pink and purple butterflies, the ceiling in yellow stars. Luna had painted it all in intricate detail, the colors of pink and purple fading into each other, the designs on the butterfly's wings. Hermione did a nifty spell to cause the ceiling to glitter like hundreds of tiny stars.

She laid her darling Kaida to sleep in her cob, brushing back the blond curls from her sleeping face. Although she had Draco's white-blond coloring, the child unfortunately carried Hermione's frizzy tresses. She had new respect for her mother who tried pointlessly to brush her hair, it was nearly impossible - more so without a wand.

Tears fell silently down her cheeks as they had so many times before. Draco would never know her, never see her smile or hear her laugh, never see her first steps or hear her first word. Uncle Harry would be the closest person she'd have to a father, and while that was wonderful, it was unfair.

She couldn't get over how helped her, how he was with Kaida. He loved her as if she was his own. He would sung very softly to her, lullaby's of Muggles and Wizards and Witches alike. It never seemed to matter if she was Draco's daughter, that she carried the features of her father. She thought that maybe it was because Snape. Their old professor held a hatred for him because he was his old nemesis' son. For that Harry learned to let go of past indiscretions. Kaida may have well been his, and she oddly felt no disgust in that idea, only sadness that it wasn't true.

Hermione may not have been able to let go of her nightmares completely - and she never would, but she lived for that baby, and Kaida deserved better than a step-in. She would fix the situation, because she had to be the best mom, because ultimately, she would always be a mother that committed the murder of the father. She had to be the best.

The light from the hallway behind her faded, and soon a hand was resting on her waist. "It's amazing, how much she looks like the two of you," Harry whispered. "Never would've guessed that you and Malfoy would produce something this lovely."

She choked on her chuckle. "I would have..."

He rubbed her back in an attempt to comfort her. He was getting much better at that, he had to, she did a lot of weeping.

"Didn't know him as well as you did, but I reckon he wouldn't want you crying."

"No," she sniffed. "But... I hate how he's not here to see her grow up. He'll never see her off on the Hogwarts Express for the first time. He'll never know anything about her. He never met her... Didn't know she existed." The tears fell faster and she was encased in Harry's arms.

"Lets get to bed, alright? Come on."

She didn't move. "You always take care of me."

"You've done the same for me."

She thought that was ridiculous in the predicament they were in, but said not another word until they were lying in bed. She curled up into his side, running her fingers along his bare chest, and took a deep breath.

"What is it, Hermione," he asked expectantly.

"How long will you stay?"

"What are you going on about?"

"This... What are we doing, Harry? I got myself into this and suddenly we're raising Kaida together. We can't possibly go on like this."

"Why not?"

She raised herself up on her elbow to better inspect his reactions. "You'll find someone someday."  
"Drop it."

"This isn't right anymore. Maybe we should have different rooms."

"I don't see the point."

"I'm worried for you."

"What for?"

"Your future -"

"Don't. Don't go there, not again. We've discussed this. Over and over, my head hurts." He didn't look at her, facing the window. "Kaida won't sleep for long."

She surrendered then, but would not give up entirely. Losing one battle didn't mean losing a war. She knew that from personal experience. Sooner or later, Harry would have to move on and it would be her and Kaida. She wanted him happy, and how happy could he be with his friend and her baby? He acted like a father, but he shouldn't have to hold himself back.

It was another example, of how unfair everything was. And of how impossible Harry James Potter could be. She would work to turn it into an example of how stubborn she could be.

Hours later, Kaida's screams leaked across the hallway. Hermione rolled off the bed to care for her.

Two hours later, Hermione was still pushing her toes against the wooden floor, gently rocking Kaida in her arms. The soothing blue glow from the ceiling rested on her daughters closed eyes. Her dreams of playing and the days errands likely rolled through her mind, for which Hermione was only slightly envious of. She wished she had dreams instead of the monsters that plagued her.

Back and forth... Back and forth... Holding tightly onto her she cocked her head to the side, closing her own eyes. Back and forth... Back and forth... A few minutes longer and then she would go to bed. She recited a passage out of a random book in her mind. She was barely comprehending what she was saying. As far as she knew, she was reciting potion ingredients for a cure for warts.

For a second she must have dozed, because there was Harry, standing in the doorway watching them. Glimpsing down she saw that Kaida remained in her safe world.

Harry took her from her arms. "You need sleep," he whispered.

"So do you."

He laid Kaida carefully in the cob, pulling her blanket over her. He touched her cheek and turned to Hermione, who watched him with great concern.

"Harry -"

"Don't start, Hermione."

She sighed, "we have to talk about this. We can't ignore it, it won't go away."

He took her hands and helped her to her feet, but instantly he was hugging her, burying his face in her hair. It was warm and secure, and she couldn't help but circle his waist.

"I love your daughter... As if she was mine... You know that." He brushed his lips over her forehead. "I love you too, Hermione. Can't imagine my life without you two. We're already living as a family, so why not?"

"What are you trying to say?"

"Let me adopt Kaida. Let me... Marry you."

She had to have heard him wrong. "What?"

"Marriage. Marry me."

The room drained of oxygen. Adopt? Marry? He couldn't have possibly been serious. She must have heard him wrong. Only, she didn't, and he was serious. The images of him in a tux at the end of a long aisle, of being a Potter, of him legally being the father of her baby. It was overwhelming. It was infuriating.

Hermione squirmed out of Harry's embrace and walked quickly to their bedroom. Through the roaring in her ears, like angry ocean waves she heard his steps mock her own. Inside of their - her - their room, she flew at him, her hands lashing against his chest.

"Hey," he complained, but he did so softly, in an attempt not to wake the baby. "Oi, stop!" He gripped her wrists, holding her still.

Her breath came in short gasps, as she continued to feel the bubbling depression. It was going to overtake her soon, and there was nothing she could do, she couldn't even look him in the eyes. She couldn't allow herself to hope, if she did then she would lose once more.

Harry was the only person she trusted herself to be with. He knew everything there was needed to know about her and more. She felt safe with him, and too easily she could see a future with him. She tried not to, reminding herself daily that he'd leave.

There was not a doubt in anyone's mind that she could make it on her own. She didn't need Harry, but she did want him. She liked their life, she didn't want things to change. Her life would be far less complicated if she fell in love with him, married him, and allowed him to adopt Kaida. They would be a normal family. That was what she wanted, but she wasn't in love with Harry, and it was unjust to him.

"I'm... sorry?" Harry appeared to be frightened of her, standing stock still.

"Do you love me?" She steeled herself for the answer that could pronounce her undoing. If he said yes, she'd have to break his heart. If he said no, then she was ultimately confused.

"You know I do," he answered.

"The way you loved Ginny," she clarified.

Slowly, he let her wrists go. "I'll never love anyone the way I loved her."

Ultimate confusion it was. Hermione collapsed on the edge of the bed. "Then why?"

"Because you saved my life for seven years."

"You don't owe me anything -"

"I owe you everything. You're the reason I'm alive."

"And you're the reason I'm breathing!"

"Hermione... I can't love you the way I loved Ginny, because you're not Ginny. I do love you, as a dear friend. We both can't have what we'd see in the Mirror of Ersied, but we like what we have here. We love Kaida."

Tears pricked her eyes. "When I see you with her... I sometimes wish you'd be her father. I loved Draco, but it was wrong." She grimaced at those words. She always knew it was forbidden, but wrong... Being in his presence didn't allow much room for that thought. It was simply _right_, but it led to his death. "I don't want to leave. I know it's incredibly inconsiderate but I want to stay."

"No one is forcing you to go."

"If you find someone -"

"Hermione..." His tone urged her to look at him.

She gazed up, and uncertainly he leaned in, his lips hovering over hers temptingly in question. They weren't touching, but she could feel the heat that hung between them, the desire to feel him. She had to feel him.

The moment her fingertips met the back of his neck, he closed the distance of their lips. It was not only their lips, but his body, he pressed into her, his hands on her hips. The passion he gave threw her off, and she was pressing back.

It had none of the fireworks and heat that Draco and her possessed, but it was... Home. It was good. She barely recognized the reality of her kissing her childhood best friend. All she knew was that she wanted him and whatever that entailed, that they both needed each other. They were both damaged, and they both loved one another and Kaida. That was enough, that was all that was important.

_Forgive me, Draco._

She felt the sides of his face, feeling his glasses, pushing them to the top of his head, leaning in once more to suckle his top lip. His hands skimmed the patch of skin her top revealed.

Yes... Home it was.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

A Vague Outline

The sun peeked through the gap in the white lace curtains pouring its design on the wooden floor. The door to the patio was slightly cracked open, the breeze sending the curtains in a delicate dance. It was a lovely morning.

Harry laid beside her. That was nothing new, but for the first time, he was nude, covered to his waist by the blanket, his arm over his head, breathing steadily, his chest rising and falling.

Watching him, reliving the first night they shared... Hermione's heart tattooed. She touched a strand of his hair that hung low over his brow. It was the blackest of black, its usual grander mess, but it was shiny and soft. It smelled of the berries, and she knew that he borrowed her shampoo, as he had the habit of doing since she moved in. He didn't care enough to buy his own, she suspected not many men cared a great deal about it.

The night before was wonderful. If someone told her that she'd be waking up naked next to Harry, she would've told them they were off their rocker. But there they were, and it wasn't awkward or frightening, neither was the night before. It was easy, filled with love and understanding. They were slow in exploring one another, and she ached to have the feelings he gave her again.

Yet, it was nothing like being with Draco. With Draco, she flew. There was need and heat. With Harry... It could never be that way, and while she felt a desperate need to be close as she could, it wasn't enough. She wanted to need him, but she didn't feel anything for him that she hadn't felt in Hogwarts. She felt sickened and sad at that realization.

Harry deserved better than her. Better than the relationship they were developing. She could never love him in the way she should.

Careful in her movements not to disturb him, she bowed over, kissing his scruffy cheek. His eyes fluttered from the contact, but did not open. She sighed, wishing he had, so she could talk her feelings out with him, but she had to get Kaida anyway. Surely she was awake. That little girl woke earlier than her every time.

Indeed when Hermione dressed and walked into the room across the hall, there she was lying in her cob awake. The toothless smile grew over her face at the sight of her mother, and Hermione felt hers expand too.

They went downstairs into the kitchen where Hermione sat Kaida in her high-chair, built with a special seat to keep her upright. She loved looking around the room, and attempted to reach any object, most namely Harry and Hermione's mobiles. After one instance of Harry leaving his too close and the keys being gummed, he kept it a good distance away.

Every sharp object had been put into locked drawers. Papers were weighted down with rocks from the Weasley's garden. She was only four months old, but she was already showing signs of magic. Things went flying as she giggled, and while Hermione checked that things were in order, Harry clapped for her.

As she fed her daughter, Hermione took frequent glances to the paper beside her. She read the Daily Prophet every morning, given that she would always be tied to that world in some form or another, especially with her daughter. There was no escaping it when she learned that she was pregnant. She wanted her to experience the magical world as she had. She only hoped that hers didn't end in the same tragedy.

The chair next to her lifted from the floor and she dropped the spoon to jump up and hold it down. "Kaida," she sighed. She couldn't scold the child, but she had a right mind to glue every object down.

Harry strolled in, fully dressed, surveying the scene with a smart grin. "She's definitely your child, showing magic this early."

She huffed, blowing strands of her hair away from her face. "She's like her father too, mischievous little thing."

He plopped down in the seat she vacated and began feeding Kaida with the plastic spoon, glimpsing at the paper. With every bite Kaida smiled, laughed, and opened her mouth for the next.

For two best friends that had shared the night they had, the air lacked awkward tension. It was as though nothing had changed between them. It was the perfect opportunity to discuss what occurred.

Before she could his eyes raked over her pinstripe slacks and crisp white blouse she was wearing. "You're really going into work?"

"Yes. I _need_ to. I'll go mad here."

He chortled. "When you are you do cause grief." He swallowed at the dangerous look she posed. "I was thinking, if you stayed the three of us could go to the park. Get some fresh air."

"I won't be gone long. I'm checking on them for a couple of hours. What about your job?"

"I took off today - left Ron in charge." He caught her troubled expression and added, "he can handle it."

Kaida playfully slapped her hands on the tray, opening her mouth wide like a baby bird. Harry scrapped the bottom of the carrot jar and fed her the last bite.

She thought of Ginny. Her friend was supposed to babysit that day. "Guess I'll call Ginny and tell her -"

"I sent her an Owl."

At any other time she would've been mad that Harry planned their day without so much as hinting to her, but at the focused glare he made, she couldn't manage it for long. A day in the park did sound pleasant. Perhaps while they were there she could have the conversation she wanted.

"Give me an hour," she said, she had faith that Amanda could keep the shop in order.

She bent and kissed Kaida's cheek, wiping a piece of carrot from her lips. She then turned to Harry to kiss his cheek, stuttering in her movement thinking in the last moment of how she didn't want to lead him on, but Harry didn't give it a second thought. He kissed her lips, and her heart began stuttering, too.

"Don't think about it so much, Hermione," he muttered, returning his attention to Kaida.

She didn't know to what to say, so she said nothing, leaving the house, fumbling putting on her coat, her hands nervous.

It was quite windy, and she extorted forward fighting against the wrath of mother nature, much like fighting the inner pleasure at seeing her best friend with her daughter. It was a constant battle of her guilt. What would Draco say if he knew? Why should that even matter? He was dead, and no amount of guilt, happiness, or sadness could change it. She had to get over it, stop mulling her position over in her head. If the walls of Grimmauld wasn't her sanity's doom, it was the guilt, and Harry was right, she shouldn't give so much thought about it.

However, she didn't know if she could ever "get over it." Her guilt was her punishment for what she did. Harry's loyalty, and her family's love for her, was the icing on the cake.

Outside of the door of her shop, her mobile rung and vibrated. "Hello," she answered breathlessly, she palmed her free ear to hear the dulled voice on the other end.

"Hermione," Ron responded. "Someone came in today asking for you."

"Who was it?"

"You'll never guess."

"I'm not trying to guess, Ronald," she said exasperatedly.

A powerful gust of wind whistled and pushed her then. It drowned out his next words, and the screen flashed, "disconnected." She placed it back in her pocket. Whoever it was couldn't be anyone to worry about. If that was the case, Ron would have been much more frazzled.

The small tinkling bell over the door sounded as she walked in. It was strangely quiet and calm after being outside, a roaring in her ears, she felt unbalanced and light. She slipped off her coat but didn't get it to her elbows when Amanda came straight to her from the counter, her silky blond hair flying around her rosy cheeks.

"There's someone here for you." She took Hermione's coat and looked warily behind her, to the back of the bookstore in the darkened corners.

Hermione forced herself to appear calm as to not alert her, and appraised the darkness under her hunter green eyes. "You look beat, go home, I'll see to our customers." She didn't wait for an answer, immediately sidestepping her frightened employee. She waited to hear the door close behind her, and when she did, she made her way towards the offending wizard or witch.

No fellow muggle could have made someone that frightened, especially a muggle that had asked for Hermione. It could only be one thing... But that was impossible... She was safe. Wasn't she? It was the best she could do, sending Amanda home. Whoever it was, they didn't want her. That was comforting and slightly more frightening.

Her heart pounded in its bone cage at the anticipation. The closer she came to the dark crevice the better she could see the vague outline. She couldn't make out who it was, but it couldn't have been anyone but someone dangerous, of that she was sure.

At the very least, her daughter was safe at home with Harry. Even if the angel did lose her last parent, never would she lack family and security. She was set for life, it was Hermione's first objective when Kaida was born.

She felt little fear about the threat of a Death Eater in her store. About her own death... She would see Draco. She would tell him she was sorry, she would cry and embrace him. She hoped that it was death meeting her finally. She had waited so long... She had wished so badly...

"What do you want," she asked more rudely than she should have done.

When the person emerged from the shadows Hermione gasped at who she saw.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

From Shadow's Past

Hermione flipped the sign on the door to read, "closed." She assumed that her visitor was what Ron was trying to tell her about. In Ron's view, it would be warning her, but she wasn't afraid. She was stunned, but there was an excitement bubbling in her core.

She returned to the back of the store where a reading area was made. She sat in the chair across from her guest.

Pansy Parkinson daintily sipped her tea, her legs crossed. Like the ugly duckling, she had grown to be pretty, not the pug-faced child she used to be. The hardness and cruelty were gone from her dark brown eyes. They didn't look nearly as black as they were the last time she had seen them so many years ago. Her style was odd and mismatched, gray slacks and a yellow eyelet blouse, but her worn sneakers were dirty. The color may have been white, but they were clearly adopting gray. She was very rich; Hermione silently questioned why she didn't buy a new pair of shoes.

Parkinson grew up with a privileged life. She flaunted it in school much like Draco had. Hermione supposed that was why they gravitated towards one another. The Slytherin girl would have done anything for Draco. She hung on his arm as though he was a prize that she won, and while he adored the attention, he never appeared to care for her the way she did for him. Draco didn't care about many, too focused on his pledge to Voldemort and the danger that held. Parkinson was good for the adoration she gave, but as a person, he didn't have any care.

Hermione noticed it all at from distance between their Houses...

"How have you been, Parkinson," she asked formally.

"No need to ask, I came here with purpose." The china clinked as she sat her cup on its saucer. "It's personal," she informed.

"Um, that is fine..."

"I heard you had a baby."

"That is personal." Just because Parkinson looked tamer didn't mean that she was harmless, and Hermione was still without a wand.

"Just like Hogwarts, news travels quickly. It's Malfoy's, I hear."

She heated scarlet. "Who told you that?"

"I won't divulge my resources."

"Don't believe everything you hear, Parkinson" she said icily, but Parkinson's comfortable demeanor didn't alter and Hermione found that she regretted her defensive position. Kaida was nothing to be ashamed of. She was a miracle, but what did her miracle have anything to do with Parkinson's visit?

"Bad memories," the girl guessed.

"What do you want?"

Her shoulders slumped, her dark eyes dropped. She looked tired, beaten and worn. "I don't want anything. In fact, I want to do something for you."

"What would that be?"

"I dated Draco. I cared for him. We would still be together if he didn't become so absorbed with being a Death Eater!" She scowled to herself.

"I know this."

"What you don't know is that our families have known each other for years. Our mothers were best friends, and my family was left with everything that Draco and his parents owned. It was in the Will. They didn't know about his child, or else it would have gone to it -"

"Her."

She smiled, her lips pressed tightly together in a thin line. "He wanted a daughter... Mentioned it in passing..." She withdrew from her pocket an envelope. "Here."

Skeptically, Hermione took it.

"You can't have the money unless you prove that Kaida is Draco's daughter, but it's obvious that she is, and I don't want to go through the Ministry. That, right there, it's a legal document with my signature. Everything has been handed over to you."

"What?"

"Didn't you hear me, Granger? Draco would want you to have it."

The whole Malfoy fortune... It was too much. "This isn't necessary. We don't need it."

"I don't care what you _need._ It's not about you or Kaida. It's what Draco would've wanted."

It felt like it weighted a ton for such a slim bit of paper. It was ghastly that in two seconds Hermione had more money than she knew what to do with. Kaida wouldn't ever have to worry. If she wanted, she could go to a muggle university – any one that she wanted. She would never merely get by, but she would have anything and everything that she needed and wanted.

"You didn't have to do this," Hermione breathed.

"But I did. I didn't help the dark side, but I didn't help the light. I did nothing and now, so many are dead."

"Like Draco..."

"It's not my fault that the stupid boy died, thinking he was more powerful than he was - but that money isn't mine. It belonged to a powerful Death Eater family. I didn't do decent thing in my life. This could be a start, honoring Draco's wishes."

She gave in, contemplating all the futures Kaida would have, and she slipped the envelope in her pocket. Then, she was struck with a sudden but appealing thought. "Would you like to see the baby?"

Parkinson's eyes widened in surprise. "Really?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"She may go to any muggle university she desires, thanks to you."

Her eyes narrowed, peeved that wizarding (not to mention pureblood) money would be used to send a half-blood to a muggle administration, surely. "...I'd love to."

"Wonderful," exclaimed, Hermione. "We were going to the park, I'll call to tell them we'll meet them there." She hesitated then, her hand paused over her pocket, thinking of Harry.

Harry accepted Draco and her, he forgave their old professor, Snape, but that was after their deaths. By all appearances it looked as though he'd risen above his prejudice of Slytherins. She had never questioned it, but she did then, and she would find out for certain, because it was going to be put to the test.

"Are you okay, Granger?"

She snapped to attention, nodding. "Yes, thank you." Thoughtfully she touched the screen of her phone. "Harry's going to be there," she told her.

Surprisingly, for a second Parkinson's eyes lit up, but Hermione could have been imagining things.

"Potter," she asked quietly.

"My daughter and I live with him," she explained.

"Ginny Weasley?"

"No – I – Harry - Harry and I - we're friends," she defended, and stuttered quickly, but she bit her tongue once the words were out. Harry didn't want to be just friends. He confessed what he truly wanted, but that didn't make it right. Hermione had made up her mind, but she had yet to tell that to him.

"I'm surprised that they're not married."

Her brows furrowed at that statement. It made no sense. Why did Parkinson care about Ginny? Ginny was nothing to her, she was a blood traitor in her eyes. "They decided it wasn't meant to be." That was as close to the truth as she could come. It was none of her business why they broke up.

"If you don't mind, why do you ask?"

Parkinson fiddled with the hem of her blouse nervously. "I'm... Sorry. For hating you. After the war it all seemed stupid, hating a House because we thought we should. Blood statuses, ranks, and race - it's all idiocy." Her feet turned in, her knee bobbing like a tick. "You and Draco were good together. I'd never seen him that happy before. It was plain _something _was up. He lost his swagger, his ego... I never knew why, he wouldn't talk to me. I didn't seem to matter to him anymore - and that hurt, but... It hurt more that I didn't know _anything_. It wasn't until I saw the news of your baby in the Daily Prophet. I overheard someone say that they didn't know who the father was, that the baby looked a lot like a Malfoy, but couldn't be. I couldn't help but think... Maybe... I thought he always fancied you."

"I liked him too."

"I know. Must've have liked him a lot. You two risked everything."

"I'm sorry."

Parkinson narrowed her eyes. "Why are you sorry?"

Hermione looked down, unable to lie straight to her face. She couldn't tell her the real reason she was sorry, that she killed Draco. "I'm sorry that he's gone."

"Granger, do you think... If you'd like... I want to start over. We're not in school together. No one is around to tell us that we can't be friends."

"You want to be my friend?"

"Draco loved you." That was answer enough.

"Then call me Hermione."

That was it. From then on, Pansy would be a friend. It was a friend that would lighten her heart, for it was almost like another piece of Draco. Kaida would have someone other than her mother to tell her fond stories of her father. Surely as the Chuddly Canons losing every match, everyone already in her life would regal her with horrid tales of hatred and the mark on his arm.

Kaida would needed reassuring that her father was good. And he was good, in the end.

Children's laughter carried over the quaint park, a park nestled in the countryside. The children chased and played among the swing set and sandbox. Colorful toys peeped out of the grass and sand, the swing creaked.

The square area was outlined with benches where bushed mothers sat with their books and magazines. Harry sat further outside on a quilted blanket where Kaida laid on her stomach. Her head was raised taking in the pastures with wonder and excitement, her bright blue eyes round orbs.

Harry looked up as they approached and smiled, but it faltered as he saw who Hermione was accompanied by. "Parkinson," he greeted, standing.

"Potter," she responded strongly.

"How are you?"

"Fair. You?"

"Well."

Hermione picked Kaida up, kissing the top of her head, ignoring the odd exchange. She would gather information about it later. "Pansy, this is Kaida."

Pansy beamed at the child. "Oh, she's lovely, Hermione. She has Draco's color."

"Yes, it's too bad that she has my hair."

She laughed, "that is a shame, but there's no mistaking it, she's your child. He'd be so proud..."

"Would you like to hold her?"

She appeared uncertain, but held out her arms all the same. Kaida was set in them, reaching for Pansy's straight black hair.

"Kaida," Hermione addressed her baby, "this is Pansy. She's a friend."

Pansy's thin lips became the straight line they tended to be set in. She blinked rapidly speaking to Kaida. "I knew your father. He was a good man..." She swallowed caressing Kaida's small hand, feeling her fingers. "You're beautiful. He'd be so proud, loving you spoiled. I'm going to tell you loads of secrets of his."

Although Kaida was too young to understand the words that Pansy was speaking, Pansy spoke anyway. She told her of the mischief Draco caused when he was younger. One in particular that had them in stitches.

Apparently, when Draco was five-years-old he received a broom for his birthday. He was excited, running into the yard and mounting it, but it shot out from under him, and he landed on his behind, crying out a storm.

Harry, grinning like a Cheshire cat pulled a wicker basket to them, setting out the lunch he had fixed. He shared half of his with Pansy, and she ate with the refinement of her class, but also like a starving woman. Her bites were too quick, and Hermione observed her more closely. Since Hogwarts she looked considerably thinner.

Like magnets Hermione's eyes met with Harry's. He was just as curious as she was.

"Pansy, you haven't told us, what do you do?"

The biscuit she picked out of the basket was set on her knee. "There's nothing I could hide from the all famous, nosy, Harry Potter," she sighed heavily. "I didn't want you two to know."

They waited for her to continue, Kaida giggling as she played with a pink and white rattler that Hermione held over her head. Harry didn't take his gaze off of Pansy.

A simple act as it was, it was surreal the way he watched her. He met most Slytherins in the same tone of contemptuous, indifference. There were few Slytherns that he cared for, but Pansy was one of those few, at least she was then.

"My parents weren't Death Eaters," She said in a hushed tone. "They were at the battle anyway. They... Didn't survive."

Harry nodded. "I heard. I'm sorry."

"They were the only family I had... We were rich, you know, but while the dark Lord had Mr. Malfoy's wand and lived in his home he took our money. Every knut. We were left with nothing, relying on him. When they were killed... Who would give me a chance? No daughter of Dark Arts supporters, former girlfriend of a Death Eater... I hated Muggles. It was confusing, to know I shouldn't - and didn't have to. Draco didn't, obviously. It wasn't easy, changing your conditioning. Impossible, some would say... But Draco did it."

Harry glowed, albeit subdued. "You did," he pointed out.

She smiled, although it was more of a grimace, and she looked startling like the cruel girl she was in school. "I did, and now I'm homeless. I don't have a job. No money."

"You can live with us," he offered without a second delay, then worriedly at Hermione.

"Yes," she agreed, "you're more than welcome."

"What?"

"We live at 12 Grimmauld," Harry said. "There's loads of room. I can find you a position in the Ministry."

Like smoke out of a dragon's snout, she steamed. "You're not the only one with pride, Potter."

"You need help -"

"I don't need _yours_," she snapped, standing roughly to her feet, the biscuit falling to the blanket. "You think because you _murdered_ the Dark Lord, you can save everyone. Here's a Prophet headline for you, Chosen One: You can't." She spun on her heels and stormed away.

Harry sat frozen in shock, but Hermione could only give a defeated sigh. While Pansy had learned from her "worship" of Draco, he had died, and who was she left with to follow? Pansy wasn't a leader nor did she have one. She was lost and scared. For someone that fell out of the fate-given luxury, it was not shocking.

"She's upset at her situation, not at you," Hermione told him.

"What do I do?"

"Let her go." She hoped she would come back. If she didn't, Hermione would look for her. She wouldn't lose a connection to Draco when it was in her grasp.

Pansy's retreating form became diminutive until was out of their sight. Kaida began crying and Hermione lied her against her chest, still focused on the barn's shadow from which her unexpected and new-found friend disappeared.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

The Start of a Change

A week passed and neither Harry or Hermione heard from Pansy. Harry spoke less, becoming increasingly sullen. It was irritating and confusing to Hermione. She had a right mind to find the woman and set her straight, to tell her that she was being foolish to not move in with them. Being with them had to be better than being homeless.

Ginny was returning to more rigorous Quidditch practices leaving less time to babysit Kaida. George was busy with his business, Ron was busy with his cases, Luna was out of the country again, the list went on and on, and on her mental list she crossed out each one. The only choices left was to inconvenience Mrs. Weasley, and that was the very last option.

Frequently, Hermione paused between the paragraphs of her book, her mind wondering to what she was going to do. It was odd, books usually promised an escape within their pages, and usually she would be struck with an answer.

"What's bothering you," Harry asked, pitching his edition of the Quibbler aside. He never finished them, but continued buying them out of his fondness for Luna.

"What would make you think something is bothering me?"

"You haven't turned a page in ten minutes."

She closed her book with a snap, laying it on her stomach, drumming her fingers on its cover. The tempo accelerated and Harry slapped his hand over hers.

"Hermione," he pressed.

"Everyone's busy, there's no one to watch Kaida while I go to work."

"That's all? I'll take a leave of absence."

"I can't let you do that, you love your job. And I think you're getting behind."

"I love my sanity more, and no one is going to mind if I'm behind. I'm not being graded."

"If you were your grade would be a 'T.'"

"Funny."

"That's not true. You're the best Auror."

"Don't let -

"Ron hear me say that," she finished for him. "I won't." She looked up at him, her head propped on his shoulder. "Speaking of your work, I want to search for Pansy. She's the only link to Draco that Kaida has."

"You mean the only link you have to him."

A blush coated her cheeks.

"Sorry, Hermione. I - I did do some searching. She hasn't left a trail, no one knows where she's at."

"That was chivalrous of you." She hoped that he would explicate. Harry didn't search for someone without grounds. From what she saw at the park, she had the inkling of an idea that perhaps he liked Pansy. It was inane, but so was her and Draco. It was a strange and twisted world that they lived in. Anything could happen. If Draco could love her through his hatred, Harry could love Pansy.

He rubbed her back, from her waist to her shoulder blade, not responding.

"Then what do we do," she asked when it was clear he wasn't going to answer her underlining question.

"She knows where to find us."

That would be the day... The odds of Pansy Parkinson looking for them were next to nothing. They would never see her again... It was more likely that it would rain Galleons.

Harry raked his fingers through her tresses. Wet lips pressed to the part in her hair, his fingers tightening infinitesimal amount. "I love you, Hermione."

It was the perfect time. There was no better opportunity to tell him how she felt. "I love you too, Harry." She inhaled deeply. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

Tears pricked her eyes. Inside she begged herself not to cry. She cried much too easily. "I've been horrible to you. I haven't been fair."

"You're not making any sense."

"I can't love you, Harry." He knew. There was no taking it back. She forced herself forward. "I can't ever love you. It's not fair. You deserve someone that does - in that way. I'm sorry. I should've never done... It was a bit blurry. I wasn't thinking."

He guffawed. "You're always thinking."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. No, look, Hermione, it's alright. Even if you never love me, I want to be with you. You're my best friend. I think that's what a marriage is. Being with your best friend."

"There has to be more than that."

"I can't be Draco. I can't be her real father. But I can be your husband, I can raise her as well as I know how. There's nothing wrong with that. It's what I'm doing now, but we'll make it legal. I do like you. I couldn't have done what I did with you if I didn't have some sort of romantic feeling." He wiped a tear from her lashes. "Can there be more than that?"

"Yes. True love, Harry. Deeply, madly, insane kind of love. I want that, and you need that. What we've been giving each other has been friendship. You've helped me out, but this can't last. You have to move on. Stop hiding behind me and face what's out there."

His visage turned to stone but it was for a second before it softened, and he kissed her hair. "I'll move into my room tomorrow. If you change your mind, you know where I'm at."

She exhaled a gust of air that she imprisoned in her lungs. It was over... But... She was supposed to feel different than she did, weightless. Instead she felt like the world had doubled in its weight on her shoulders, and she didn't know why.

"You like Pansy," she blurted out as he was turning to his side.

"Uh, what?"

"You heard me just fine, Harry. How long?"

He frowned, rolling onto his back again. "Since our Fifth Year. How did you know?"

"You're my best friend. Is that how you forgave me for being with Draco?"

"I envy you for doing it. I didn't have the guts. She was a Slytherin and I was the Chosen One. She hated me - she didn't outwardly hate me as much as everyone else; she did what she had to, but her heart wasn't in it. Maybe I deluded myself into thinking that, but either way, it killed me to see her with Malfoy. I can't explain it."

She was sad that Harry never told her. They were best friends; there wasn't anything that he couldn't have confided in her, but she had her secrets from them too. She never told him about Draco. In the end, it was fair.

"You don't have to explain," she told him, "it makes it all the more important that we find her. And we will."

"You're a better friend than I deserve, Hermione."

"I always thought the same of you, Harry."

After a pregnant pause, Harry was asleep, his arm loosening from the hold it had around her shoulders. His arm trapped under her, she looked to see that his hand was relaxed, the fingers uncurling.

She scooted softly out of bed, and strolled purposefully across the hall. Peeping into the cob she saw that Kaida too, was fast asleep, her arms sprawled out. The soft light cast her in the unmistakable resemblance of Draco, and her mind wandered to the past, incapable of helping itself.

_ The second the clocks hands met at eleven she met Draco behind the One-Eyed Witch statue. It was their ritual. In the day they had to be enemies, but at night, they could be what they were. Friends. More than friends. They hugged and kissed, and unlike his signature mark of wrapping a strand of her hair around his finger, he took her hand._

_ "I want to show you something. It won't take long," he promised._

_ She let him lead her through the corridors. He didn't so much as glance to see if anyone was watching, but she kept her gaze over her shoulder. If anyone caught them, being out of bed after hours would be the least of their problems. She didn't want to imagine what her friends would say._

_"What are the Slytherin chambers like," Hermione whispered into his ear. It was more than her mere curiosity, she wanted to take her mind off of the possibility that they'd be seen. "Coercing with the enemy" would be among one of the many lines they'd yell at her._

_ "Cold, damp. Shhh."_

_ Like daggers, she glowered at the back of his blond head, but she bit her tongue. He was right, the slapping of their feet on the stone floor was enough to alert Ms. Norris, the caretakers cranky and tattle-tale cat._

_ They took several shortcuts through sleeping portraits, a few snorting loudly behind them. The darkness pressed in on them, hiding them nearly as well as Harry's cloak could._

_ At the end of a lengthy hallway he trailed her up a winding staircase to the Astronomy Tower. The telescopes were stored away, leaving the circular area open, the star-filled sky peering down at them. The warm air was like a thick wool over her, and she blamed it for the reason she couldn't breathe easily, and not that Draco was standing so close to her._

_ "Look here," he said, pointing down to the grounds, and there was an orange spot creeping along the tall grass to the lake. "Your cat."_

_ "Crookshanks."_

_ "Hunts every night there. Think she catches a few sea urchins too." He walked away slipping his cloak off over his head laying it on the floor. He sprawled over it, and held up his arm for her to curl into._

_ She took his offer, her head on his chest, his heartbeat rapid, drumming in her ear. She savored it, every beat._

_ While the stars were beautiful, she looked up at him. He was a more pleasing sight than the moon. He meant everything to her. Logic got the best of her every time, and it told her that if she was willing to risk everything for him, then he had to be her everything. That meant that she loved him, but she didn't need that logic to know. She knew it because she could not stop the singing in her core every time he was near, and thoughts of him that plagued her when he wasn't._

_ "This is where you come," she asked._

_ "Since Sixth Year. It's peaceful. There's no one here to tell me what to do, what not to do, how to act..." His eyes left the heavens and met her gaze. "Who to hate."_

_ "You've never hated me, Draco."_

_ "Sometimes, I think I did. I hated how much better you were than me, how smart you were, good you were, everything about you. I believed that I was better than you because of my blood, and at every turn you were proving me wrong. I think I really did hate you, Hermione. I'm sorry for that."_

_ Her heart picked up speed, driving faster than his. "How do you feel now?"_

_ "Ashamed." Her stomach dropped, and then, "it is shameful, to have hated the person that you love now. I do love you, Hermione. I thought you would know that by now."_

_ "I love you too," she exhaled breathlessly._

_ "I know."_

Hermione ignored the heated trails her tears made. She touched her sweet daughter's cheek. Her last gift. Her last love. Her last hope. "We love you. Our sweet daughter."


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

Friend or Foe

"We'd thought we'd have our dinner today. Tomorrow, Charlie is flying us to Romania. He's there again, you know." Mrs. Weasley explained why they were having their usual family Sunday dinner on Saturday. Beaming with excitement she set the large table.

"That's great," Hermione replied pleasantly, listening to Kaida giggles as George popped the innocent sparklers he made for his joke shop. She took a handful of silverware, placing them by the plates recently laid.

"The meal is almost ready."

She could smell the mouth-watering spices, a heavy perfume in the air. "Who are we waiting for?"

"Ron," she muttered impatiently, and Hermione didn't ask any more. "Ginny has been training so hard, I begged her to stay home, but she refused. Poor thing, that team is running her ragged. It's worrying me."

"It's what she loves to do."

"You, and Harry and Ron loved getting into trouble. It doesn't make it healthy!"

Hermione smiled apologetically. Being a mother herself she could only imagine the worry that Mrs. Weasley suffered because of them. If Kaida ever found herself in half of the problems they had been in then Hermione would age a hundred years in her daughter's schooldays.

When she positioned the last fork, she cracked open the door to the lounge. She watched as George pulled at two opposing strings of a tube, confetti flying and a chime ringing. Kaida clapped her hands on the floor, leaning forward for more. Harry looked on with as much enjoyment as Hermione.

"How are you holding up, dear," Mrs. Weasley quietly asked behind her.

"I'm sorry?"

"You miss him."

"I see him every time I look at her. It's hard not to miss him."

"When Arthur was almost killed by that snake... Waiting out what happened, I didn't want to think of it, but I did. I thought I was a widow... We have seven children, and I wasn't done with raising Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny. I - I... Couldn't." Her brown eyes glistened, and she turned away.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Weasley."

"No, no, dear, you're missing the point. For those crucial hours I was certain I was a widow. I'm so sorry that you have to go through this. I know time does not make it easier. I would've never gotten over Arthur's death."

Mrs. Weasley turned away then, tending to a boiling pot. Hermione hardly had the chance to return to being the spectator over the laughter that was too, bubbling like the pot, overflowing with joy. From the back door, Ron poked in his flaming red head.

"Ronald," his mother scolded, "you're late!"

"Sorry, mum. Was busy at work. Hermione? Can I see you out here?"

His tone was strained to remain steady, but his Mrs. Weasley pretended not to notice. She had learned over the years - with her husbands assuring - that they could handle themselves, there was no need to worry. This freshly captured calmness pertained only to her act that she went temporarily deaf and blind at crucial fretting points. She did however, warn with the shaking of a dripping ladle, "you have five minutes."

Hermione excused herself outside, her mind whirring with possibilities. It couldn't have had anything to do with the Ministry or he'd be calling on Harry. While her and Ron were as close as they were in Hogwarts, she no longer intervened in their business. After all, she had stepped away from the Wizarding world as much as she could.

"What's wrong," she asked.

"He came looking for you again."

"Who? Again?"

The corners of his mouth pulled further down. "Nott. Remember that quiet bloke in Slytherin? He looked like a bad tempered rabbit."

"Draco's best friend?"

"Then who were Crabbe and Goyle?"

"His goons," she responded impatiently. "Why was Nott there?" She hadn't seen him since... The war.

"Looking for you," he retorted as if she was missing a few screws.

"Don't give me that tone, Ronald Weasley! I thought it was Pansy that was there."

"Parkinson? Why?"

She waved her hand, dismissing his question. "It's a long story."

"You and Harry have been keeping a lot to your own little world lately," he accused, his freckled face heating.

"Ask Harry about Pansy, it isn't my place. Now, tell me what Nott wanted."

"Why bother? I'll tell Harry and _you_ can ask him." He brushed past her into the kitchen, the doors window trembling.

Hermione stared wide eyed at where his back disappeared. She blinked, attempting to trace exactly where the conversation had gone wrong.

"He hasn't grown up much," Ginny said, coming up from the garden. She kicked a nosy gnome who was stupidly standing on its stubby toes to see above the overgrown cabbage. She lifted her folded arms showing her that they were filled with basil, that she was busy.

"That doesn't mean that you weren't spying," she smiled tightly.

Ginny stopped in front of her with a heavy and empathetic sigh. "You gave me great advice on Harry. In return I'll give you advice on my dumb-witted brother. He's _dumb-witted._ He's as insecure now as he as in Hogwarts, afraid he would be left behind if you and Harry started... Something. Whether you do or not, Harry's living with you, raising Kaida, and Ron is busy being an Auror. He overworks, sure, still trying to avenge Fred's death, I suppose." She shrugged, tilting her head and flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Give him space, he'll get over it."

"Thanks, Ginny. How is it going with Patrick?"

She beamed, her oval eyes lighting up. "Brilliantly. He's very wonderful. We're going out tonight, he's taking me to this lovely restaurant, the whole place is made of glass, fish swimming in the walls."

"I'm happy for you," she said sincerely.

Her joyful radiance faded into curiosity. "Do you have any idea why Nott wants to see you?"

"Only one. He wants to talk about Draco. It's what needs to be said that's worrying me."

The window next to them creaked open. "Ginny," Mrs. Weasley called to her, "bring in that basil, please. Hermione, George put Kaida in her cob for her nap."

"Thank you," Hermione said in kind, as Ginny hurried inside.

The light blue of the sky poured on Hermione, a witness to her small and thoughtful pacing. She had no ties to Nott other than their dead loved one. Whatever it was that he wanted, it had to do with Draco.

Before retreating to Percy's old bedroom - to Harry and Kaida - she thought of Pansy. Pansy searched for her, and though she left, it wasn't at all a terrible reunion. Hermione wanted to believe that it wouldn't be bad when Nott found her, but that all depended on who Nott was. A friend or a foe.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-Four

Man-slaying Mudblood

The plastic sign on the door was turned, announcing that Book-nook was closed. Hermione called Ginny, begging her to watch Kaida a few more hours, but Harry too was working overtime and she volunteered to take Kaida for the night. Hermione couldn't have thanked her enough, the amount of customers that day kept her a tad behind, and wondering if she should hire another employee.

With a rolling crate stacked with books she appropriately went to each section slipping them into their rightful order. Too often people would take down a book and put it in whatever place was closest. There were seven tossed on a table at the end of the day by lazy customers. Nothing peeved her more than books that were not where they belonged. At least that was her greatest peeve that day. All she desired was to go home.

Amanda shuffled into the Science Fiction section that Hermione was in. She picked up two books from the crate, yawning as she surveyed the shelf in front of her.

"Amanda, you should get a good nights sleep. Go on home, I can handle things here."

She cocked her head at her, her lids drooping. "Are you sure? There's a lot to do and you're anxious to see your daughter, I'm sure."

"She's with her aunt tonight, and I'm not that tired. Go on, I can handle the rest."

Amanda smiled, squeezing her tight around her shoulders. "Thank you loads, Ms. Granger! I'll come to work early tomorrow. Don't concern yourself with opening the store."

"Thank you," she gasped as her employee let her go.

With no time spared, Amanda was out the door, the chime ringing in her absence, a cheerful goodbye mimicking the one she had given. That last sound seemed to echo between the bookcases, trapping in the darkest of corners.

The shop felt a lot darker than it had, quieter, her movements, the sound of rustling paper, covers, were louder. The wheels of the cart squeaked, calling out for oil.

Softly, as if she feared waking the shadows, she hummed. It was tuneless, but it gave the needed comfort she searched for. It drowned out her breath and the excess scurrying of darkness.

Pushing the cart forward she moved to the collection of Romances. Her tune had somehow morphed itself into the Hogwarts school anthem. It was only sung once during her time as a student. Although it had no tune to accompany it, she hummed it in a sweet melody. Then, she was singing it.

_ "Hogwarts, Hogwarts, hoggy warty Hogwarts, teach us something please, whether we be old and bald, or young with scabby knees. Our heads could do with filling, with some interesting stuff, for now they're bare and full of air, dead flies and bits of fluff. So teach us things worth knowing, bring back what we've forgot, just do your best, we'll do the rest, and learn until our brains all rot."_

She was lost in her task, repeating the last verse over and over. There was one last book, and she spotted a crevice, the left book having fallen sideways creating a triangular cave.

Then, a loud knock disturbed the almost-silence, ending her solo. The book she was holding slipped from her fingers, slapping on the cold floor.

The knocking did not cease. It picked up in its clamorous. When she recovered from her frozen fright, she followed the noise to the back door, leaving the book and cart behind. She was careful in her steps, rolling her feet from her heels to toes.

There was only one person it could have been. The question was why Nott had chosen such an indecent hour to visit her.

She twisted the lock and with great trepidation she opened the door, but as soon as she did, she exhaled a gust. It wasn't who she thought it was.

Pansy shivered in the chilly air, her arms wrapped around her in place of a coat. There were bruises marking her tearful visage, her bumpy arms. Dirt was caked in her hair, lost in its shade but revealed by its clumps.

"Are you alright? Come in!"

The woman didn't move. "I didn't know where to go..."

Hermione ushered her inside, pulling gently on her arm, pressing a hand to her back. In the low setting of the lights, she could see that Pansy was barefoot. They were brown, the nails long, and the smear of blood. It shined fresh and bright.

"Pansy, what happened?"

"Fight," she answered sharply, getting her point clearly across that she did not want to speak of it.

"I'll take you to St. Mungos."

"No!"

"We have to get you help. You're feet are bleeding. Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"Can't you heal me? You're a know-it-all."

She bristled at the old term everyone used to describe her. "I'm not a Healer." She didn't even have a wand...

"I can't _afford_ a healer."

"It's not the time to be prideful, Pansy. Let us help you."

"No."

"Please," she begged. "I couldn't help Draco."

A brief flash of empathy crossed her to be masked by her old cold exterior. "Don't speak his name," she yelled. "You're not worthy of saying his name, you filthy, stupid, dirty, disgusting, despicable-little-mudblood. You bitch! Whatever spell you put on him, I hope it was worth it, because he's dead! He didn't want your help. Don't you get it, Granger? He was a Death Eater, and what he hated most was mudbloods like you."

She hadn't been hurt by the defamation of "mudblood" since she was a little girl. Since Draco called her one. It was nearly as hurtful from Pansy, because it was the same girl that he had cared for. Regardless, Hermione kept her head about her. The woman was in pain, she was sick. She didn't know that Hermione wasn't a dirty or stupid mudblood, but that she was a man-slaying mudblood.

"That's not true," she said calmly. "He was going to come with me, to go to Dumbledore -"

"And did you ask him why he didn't?"

"Because it would've put his whole family in danger. You're upset, Pansy. Please, trust us. Draco did."

"Look where that got him."

Hermione flinched like she had been slapped. If only Pansy knew that it had been her that killed him, watched the light leave his eyes. She would never understand the black mass that would forever haunt her.

"I - I didn't mean for him to die... I loved him. If I could have... If..."

Reluctantly, Pansy softened, her shoulders lowering. "Fine, Granger. Take me home."

"I'll call Harry."

"Why? Apparate us."

She looked down, not meeting her eyes. Ginny, always being wonderful at telling falsehoods would be ashamed if she could have seen her then. "The... The thing is... I'm pretty tuckered out."

"You're a dreadful liar." Pansy appraised her pockets and long sleeves. She appeared befuddled. "Hermione, where's your wand?"

She noted that she was no longer being called by her surname nor by the prejudice term. "I..." She didn't have a halfway decent explanation. "It's locked in a drawer. I don't want to discuss this."

"Then we won't discuss what happened tonight either."

"If that's what you want..."

Pansy nodded, but continued observing her shrewdly. "Call Potter then."

"He doesn't know," she pleaded quickly. "No one does."

"Don't worry, your secret is safe with me. Slytherins have a fine taste for gossip, and this isn't worth passing along. This is a poor piece of information. A muggle-born not using magic properly. Shocking," she said sarcastically.

Seeing past the sarcasm, Hermione smiled. It was Pansy's way of paying the favor she cruelly felt she owed her, and Hermione would play along.

She dialed Harry's number.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-Five

November Rain

Upon hearing that Pansy had returned and needed help, Harry was there. He clearly didn't buy the excuse that Hermione was too exhausted to disapparate them, but he didn't press. He would save the interrogating for later, focusing his attention on the injured woman.

In the brighter lights of their home, Hermione could see how much blood that her friend had lost. Her clothes were torn, painted in blotted crimson. Harry ripped off his cloak throwing it over her head.

"She needs to go to St. Mungos," he stated to Hermione, snaking a firm arm around Pansy's waist.

Pansy gave a strong, "no. I'm not going!"

"You need a Healer."

"I don't care, I'm not going."

Hermione intervened on her behalf. "Mrs. Weasley's good with this. I'll Floo her."

Harry groaned, starting towards the kitchen. He mumbled under his breath, something that sounded like, "women," and, "loads of explaining to do."

She strolled past them, her hands trembling. Hurriedly she threw a handful of powder that resembled ashes into the hearth, descending on her hands and knees. No matter if the emerald flames didn't hurt, it was her instinct - the muggle in her as Draco would say - that wanted to shy away. Inhaling and holding, she stuck her head through, feeling the flicks of popping ashes.

There was the Weasley's worn sofa in front of her, a brown mouse inspecting a blown firecracker that George left behind.

"Mrs. Weasley," she called.

Shuffling and muffled noises answered, and in seconds Ginny was kneeling in front of her. The smile quickly dropped as she saw the urgency in Hermione's face. "Harry," she gasped, her jaw dropped, her nails clawing the carpet beneath her.

"No - not him. Pansy."

"Parkinson, again?" Her disgust was an exact replica of Ron's. "You found her?"

"She found us. How'd you know?"

"Harry was talking to Ron when you called him. She's alive, isn't she?"

"She's hurt and refuses Healers. Is your mum there?"

"Mum and dad left for Romania two hours ago. I can do it. I've seen mum do healing spells a thousand times. A perk from being in a house full of brothers." She smiled wryly.

She was skeptic. "Ginny, I don't think -"

"I can do it. Harry's in my past. Bill and Fleur are here, they can watch Kaida. Fleur has been going on about how it'd be good practice."

Carefully, Hermione ducked out of the fireplace. Wiping her hands on her pants, she stood, brushing her hair back.

Pansy sat in one of the kitchens chairs, Harry with a damp cloth to her cheek. Her dark eyes were locked on him, her hands relaxed in her lap. He touched softly, as if she would crack like porcelain. She could've been a doll with a scowl. Right then, however, the scowl was absent, her guards down, and she may as well have been naked in front of him for the level of intimacy it was.

Hermione coughed, and Harry looked up. There it was, Pansy's infamous scowl.

"Mrs. Weasley is unavailable. Ginny is coming instead."

Both of the women watched Harry's reaction, but there was none. He was completely nonchalant, nodding and returning to clean the rest of Pansy's blood. He paused, hovering over her neck where streaks of red had traveled. She cupped his hand leading him to her pulse.

Hermione tore her gaze away, her heart aching for a past life. To give them the short privacy they needed before Ginny arrived she quietly slipped out of the kitchen and walked down the hall and stepped out into the storm.

The inky black clouds rolled, thunder sounding in the distance like warnings. It wasn't long before the rain began pecking at her head and face, perfect round dots on the sidewalk. She should have turned around, went back inside of her safe home, go to her room and read, but she kept walking. The pattering of droplets became a downpour, blowing her sideways.

Hermione shivered, wrapping her arms closer around her. She was absurd to not have taken her coat. She was stupid to have continued walking. The smartest witch of her age, walking alone at night, in a storm, without her wand.

Her shop loomed ahead of her. A few dozen more steps and she'd be in its dry heart. She wouldn't be able to dry herself or put on dry clothes, but she'd be warm and out of the chilling storm. The only question left was how long she planned to stay there.

She was being selfish. She was feeling sorry for herself. She stopped and rested against the nearest building. It was discouraging to learn that when put to the test, she was weak. She failed. If there was one thing that she hated more than anything, it was failing.

Throughout her school career she had proved herself strong, smart, and loyal. Despite her affair with the enemy she fought with her friends. She had faced numerous creatures, and Voldemort himself, and she survived it all. She was a Gryffindor, she was supposed to be brave.

Draco died at her wand and she falls to pieces. Even Kaida could only bring her so much light. There was that missing part of her, a black overcast, and she had only herself to blame.

"Granger?"

Hermione jumped, her head snapping up to see who hovered over her. She saw a cloaked man, his face hidden by its low hood, and the darkness the night provided. There were no identifying features to be seen, he was covered well. It should have frightened her, but she felt nothing but curiosity in that moment.

"Yes," she asked, her teeth chattering from the chill that crept its way into her bones.

"I've been looking for you."

"Who are you?"

"You'll catch a cold sitting out here." He offered his hand.

"What do you want," she insisted.

"To help."

When she didn't respond the man grumbled, but whatever he said was covered by the thunder that clapped nearby. His following words were ones that were so cold and unbelievable that the rainy air in November felt warm.

"Draco sent me."


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter Twenty-Six

Meeting Truth

Hermione would've believed that it was a cruel dream if her heart hadn't jolted the way it did, if she wasn't still shivering from the cold. If she didn't feel like she was going to die right there on that sidewalk, because it was too good to be true.

The man pulled back his hood revealing only sandy hair, dull brown eyes, and ears too big for his head. She recognized him instantly.

"Nott."

He nodded as if the whole process was boring him. "I'm not catching a bug with you. Come on, Granger. We have to go."

She stood, but made no move to suggest that she was going to follow him. "Explain."

"Still bossy I see. I'll explain along the way." He held out his arm in what would have been a gentleman's gesture, if it wasn't for the sneer he carried. "Take it."

She didn't. "Explain in my shop." She tugged the keys out of her jeans with plenty of difficulty as they were glued to her skin.

"This isn't necessary, Granger. I told him I'd have you back by daylight; you weren't an easy find."

"A bit cocky, eh?"

"I didn't expect it to be this difficult. Guess I should've expected to be hanging around musty old bookstores. No doubt that you'd own one, but in a muggle community?" He inspected her body. "No wand?"

"I have one."

"Let me see it."

She flushed.

"That's what I thought." That statement irritated her. Could everyone read her like the books she carried?

They trailed puddles like breadcrumbs in the store, all the way to the back. She motioned to the very chair Pansy had sat in a week ago, but Nott refused.

"You're in here because Draco trusted you," Hermione said in her strictest tone (what Harry would call her McGonagall impression). "I will trust you too, but I won't go with you without a reason. He's dead, Nott. I was there... I saw him."

"Don't expect you to understand this, but magic is complex. There are many factors involved in performing a simple spell. Intention, words, movements. Let me ask you something, Granger, did you really mean it when you killed my best mate?"

She ceased breathing. He knew... He must have saw, but why would he let her _live_ as long as she had?

He chuckled darkly. "I don't reckon you did. You didn't have a shred of desire to kill him despite all your good reasons. You throw a rubbish curse. The incantation was powerful enough to do a great deal of damage. Zapped all his strength and weakened him. He's walking now, you know. Almost back to new, and I have no choice but to fulfill his request. And that's you."

"This is impossible. He was dead."

"He may have died if it wasn't for that ruddy book in his pocket." Nott smiled. "But don't fret, your book is fine."

"He's dead," Hermione reiterated. "It's impossible."

"Disappointed?"

She glowered, cursing herself once more for not carrying her wand. "This is a sick joke."

"Talk to that friend of yours - the Weasel twin about jokes. I loathe April Fools."

"Then you wouldn't mind if I called Harry to join us."

His smile widened. "Be my guest. I owe a lot to that bloke."

Her mouth set in a concentrated frown. "Your dad was put in jail because the Order came searching for us." She vaguely recalled his attitude shortly after the imprisonment of his father. There was no emotion at all. She thought it a bit odd. Draco and his goons looked ready to murder.

"Here's a bit of fact for you, bookworm: Not every boy wants to be like their father. Not every Slytherin hates muggles. Fortunately for you and Draco, I couldn't have cared less."

"I wasn't suggesting that you have your old ideals."

"You were suggesting that I was like everybody else. I _never_ had _those_ ideals. I acted my part well. I owe a lot to you too, Granger, you changed him, and because of that, I didn't have to hide to my best mate."

Her head reeled. "It's true then? That Draco's..."

He jerked his head in affirmation, and she crumpled. He grabbed her arms quickly, sitting her in the chair. "There's no need to cry," Nott told her.

She hadn't realized that she was crying, but as her fingertips grazed her cheeks she found that it was true. "All this time..." Her voice cracked and she could say no more, which was just as well. Her breath caught in her throat as the point of a knotted wand was at her chest.

Nott muttered a spell - or curse, and she shut her eyes, foolishly half-expecting to see a burst of green light, but there was none. There was a flash, but when she was very much alive, her limbs appearing to be in place, she found that her clothes were dry, as well as her hair. She ran her hands over her face, her tears having dried as well.

"Thank you," she said, stunned.

It couldn't have been real, she must have been asleep, and with any luck, none of it was real. She would wake up soon in her dormitory, and she'd laugh at it all with Harry and Ron in the Great Hall. They'd tell her she was bonkers for dreaming about Draco, and she'd nag about their messy and incorrect homework. They'd go to class, and she'd forget all about it.

As if ringing the truth of their reality, her mobile rung. It slipped in her hand as she fished it from her pocket, but gracelessly caught it. "Hello," she said shakily into the receiver.

"Hermione," Harry gasped on the other end. "Where are you?"

"I'll have to call you later -"

"Talk with me now. I know you're outside, your coat is missing. Come home, you'll catch a cold out there."

"You're not my father, Harry Potter."

"Um -"

She snapped her phone closed, wincing as she did so. She didn't want to hurt Harry, she didn't mean to react the way she did, but all that was happening was overwhelming. It didn't give her an excuse, she realized that. She'd have to apologize to him later. If what Nott said was true, apologies over her behavior would be forgotten.

"Granger. He's waiting for you."

She took his hand, feeling the rough callouses along the balls of his hands, and the tightening of her stomach in preparation. She was about to meet the truth. Either she'd die believing a daft lie, or she'd return Kaida's father.

"Apparate me," she asked, high hopes laced in her voice. It could be her poison, running through her stream. It could kill her, if it was all a lie.

Hermione's naval was wrenched forward, the shapeless colors of her bookstore swirling around her. She gripped Nott's hand feeling his bones shift slightly. He squeezed back roughly in retaliation. She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat.

Nott's house was expansively quaint. the downstairs was all adorned in wood. Through a double archway there could be seen a long table crowded with chairs. That was it. No artwork or items to be admired. The centerpiece was the staircase, large enough to hold twenty people shoulder-to-shoulder. The upstairs was a balcony, doors practically making the wall.

"It used to be a boarding house," Nott explained, hanging his cloak on the rack.

She pushed her agitated hands in her pockets, holding herself there. "What is it now," she asked conversationally, keeping her mind off of rudely searching each of those rooms for Draco.

"My home."

"No one comes here?"

"You ask a lot of questions. Haven't changed much, have you?"

"I'm not raising my hand," she responded coolly, and she saw his lips press into a line as if to refrain from smiling. "How's Terra?"

The corner of his lips pulled up into a real smile. "She's well. This is where we teach."

"What do you teach?"

"Everything."

"Why not in a school?"

"This is a school. My wife is deaf, and her children are deaf. Never seen a deaf Wizard, eh? This is where they can come, to fit in."

Hermione smiled kindly. "Do the children know about Draco?"

"Ah yes, the blasted war hero."

"Hero?"

"We embellished. A lot. We concealed his Dark Mark - didn't want to frighten the children. Now, Granger, are you finished asking every question in the book? If so, I'll go fetch Draco. The idiot said he wanted to walk to you."

She grimaced, unable to give a smile that time. She focused on steadying her breaths.

"Keep your enthusiasm in check," he said sarcastically, but she hardly heard him past her thundering heart.

He walked up the stairs and entered the far left room, closing the door with a sharp snap. That simple sound sent her heart into overdrive. _Draco is in there_. She wanted to follow so desperately, but the soles of her trainers felt as though they were nailed to the floor.

Hermione waited, the seconds booming by. There wasn't even a clock to see the time passing. Years could have gone and she wouldn't know, because each minute felt like an eternity.

Then, just as she was about to go to the door, it opened. A snake-shaped cane emerged, snapping on the floor.

There was a choked whimper that she recognized as her own. She cupped her mouth to prevent further noises, and blinked back the tears that pressed harshly against her eyes. She couldn't cry, not then, not when she was so close to seeing him. Finally.

Draco Malfoy limped out to the balcony, to the precipice of the staircase. His white-blond hair was longer, grazing his shoulders, his coloring a sickly yellow. There was smudged darkness under his light eyes, but they met hers, and lit as blinding as the sun. The boy she knew shined out, looking as healthy as he had once been. And she was alive. Hermione Granger came to life.

She ran, bounding up the steps and into his arms, just as she had done on that chilled morning at the train station. The cane clattered beside them as she inhaled his scent, running her hands over his cheeks, through his locks, down his neck and shoulders, over his chest. His heart was there, he was alive proving to her that it wasn't a joke. Freely, she cried.

His lips descended on hers. He breathed once, "finally," is what he exhaled.

* * *

A/N: Further explanation of the curse will be told.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter Twenty-Seven

For the Love of a Book

Neither spoke. They moved silently into his bedroom, onto his bed. They lied on their sides facing each other, thirstily drinking it all in. Their hands were knotted between them, not willing to let go. They both had to be certain it wasn't a cruel dream, and the small caresses, the consistent skin contact was too tangible to be a figment of their imagination. It was not as though they had much imagination to work with, they never had.

It was hard to believe that he was there in front of her. She had countless envisages of him with her. They were simple ones, of him lying next to her as he was then. It seemed too good to be true, and her parents taught her that what was too good to be true often was. Yet, it was apparent through the surreal and dear moment, that it wasn't the case for Draco being there. She didn't want to over-think it, to ruin their time. She feared how much they had left.

Hermione memorized every facet of him. He was gaunt, his eyes slightly sunken in his skull. She counted the silver flakes in his gray eyes. Fifteen in the left, thirteen in the right. She tried to focus on those flakes to ignore the weakness of the showing of his bones that were nothing less than stomach-churning. She was afraid of her movements, as if she could break him. She had never imagined that she'd have to be so careful with him.

After an hour of silence and basking of their rapt jubilation, Draco spoke. "It sounds inadequate, but I've missed you."

"Then why didn't you ever tell me you were alive?"

"Theo," he answered, as if that was all the explanation necessary. He sighed, "he saw you kill me. He didn't trust you for a very long time, love. Until I was capable of speaking he didn't know that it was a request of mine. Think he continues to be bitter about it, but that's Theo. He'll hold grudges for years. To this day he won't forgive me for breaking his toy broom when we were five."

She wanted to laugh, but she had no desire. "You made him search for me."

"He couldn't avoid it for much longer. I'm walking better, and sooner or later I'm going to go after him for keeping me from you this long." He smirked.

They fell into silence once more.

"Forgive me."

"I'm the one who's sorry, Draco. I killed you."

"_Try_. You tried to kill me. Lets not forget the important little detail that you failed."

She had never been as happy to fail as she had then. "But -"

"You did it because I asked you. I would've died. If it wasn't for Theo... Took a lot of interest in Healing, he did. Because of him, and this book I'm alive." From under his pillow he slipped out a small ragged book, the exact one she had given him at Christmas. She would not have believed it, if she hadn't memorized every page of that book. It was burnt black, the few pages left weak and torn.

"Oh," she said.

He misread her reaction. "Sorry about it. I tried to fix it, but no spell will work."

"There isn't a spell to repair an Unforgivable."

"Wish I could replace it for you."

"I don't care about the book."

He gasped dramatically. "Granger - the walking library - doesn't care that her precious childhood book is destroyed?"

"Seriously, Draco, I'd rather every book catch fire than anything happen to you."

He paused. "I think I'm starting to understand your spans of love for me. Or for your books."

"There's something I don't understand... How can an object be effected by an Unforgivable. It's meant for people, and objects can't deflect them. If that were so, everyone would be carrying books on them. If -"

"Every object can be effected by any spell or curse. If you care to hear, I have a theory. That is unless you're dying to give me a few of the thousands in your head."

Her eyes narrowed into slits, but she awaited his theory. She would admit that she missed those playful jabs, the way he challenged her. His intelligence, the rays he extended when he looked at her.

"Don't mean to steal the constant reason Potter and Dumbledore have for everything, but I reckon it's because of love. Using the killing curse on me was a contradiction. You didn't want to, your intention was good. It could never have worked, but damn, lioness, you pack a punch." He drew his thumb over her cheek. "Thanks for loving me. I'd be dead otherwise."

_ He lied still, his eyes closed, peaceful, a hint of the smirk she loved so much present on his lips. The tears overflowed and dripped off her chin. She was crying but she didn't feel it. She felt nothing but the pain of what she had done. _

Even with Draco in front of her, it tore her heart out to think of it. "I'm still sorry," she wept, unable to keep the tears at bay.

"That's not what I wanted to hear."

"Then what?"

"That you love me too. I've spent nearly a year in this wretched hole worried that you'd move on. That you wouldn't want me damaged after you had such a striking lad."

"I don't think of Harry as striking," she said more to herself than to anyone.

He pulled up. "Harry? Potter?"

"Who were you talking about?"

"Me!"

"Oh! Draco -"

"Bloody fucking hell," he bellowed, leaping out of the bed, but he hadn't gained the adequate amount of strength it took to do something that rash. Being uneasy on his feet, he fell.

Hermione crawled to the edge seeing him sprawled out on the floor. Cringing, he was letting loose a slew of crude words, and she bit her tongue to abstain from reprimanding him, instead she slid to her feet kneeling at his side.

The first four buttons on his black button-up shirt were open, and revealed in the middle of his chest was a lightening bolt scar. One exactly like Harry's. They shared the same mark, survived the same curse their parents did not. They would always hate each other, but they were both alike. Hermione was thankful that Draco had her, had Kaida. He would never be alone the way Harry was.

"Harry," he squealed at her. "Harry _fucking _Potter. Why? You couldn't have been that desperate."

Brought back to the present, she stood to her feet pushing her fists onto her hips. "Harry is a good man!"

Draco wouldn't look at her, directing his line of sight to his legs. He closed his eyes, breathing in deeply. "I'm too late."

It was like someone had punctured her anger, and she loosened, returning to her former position beside him. She took his hand, tracing the spider-like blue veins "No, you're not. Me and Harry aren't together." She needed to be honest about everything. It was better for him to know then rather than igniting his anger if he happened to learn of it later. "We kissed - once - but it was too odd. We live together out of companionship, and..." She sucked in her bottom lip uncertainly. She never wondered how Draco would take the news, it didn't have any weight of importance when he was supposedly dead.

"And?"

"Kaida."

At last he gazed up at her. "Who's Kaida?"

"Your daughter."

A pregnant pause stretched between them, his face frozen in shock. She was a moment away from calling for Nott when he croaked, "my daughter?"

"Her name is Kaida Harmony Granger. Kaida means 'little dragon,' respectively after you. Harmony is what we were. She's lovely, she looks so much like you." She exhaled it out in a rush. She wanted to tell him all about her, about her life, and how perfect she was. How much she looked like him.

"Granger? You didn't give her my last name?"

She laughed, "that's what you're asking?"

"Bloody hell, why didn't you give my daughter my last name? Answer it - and I swear to Merlin, if it has anything to do with Potter -"

"I didn't want questions or the whole Wizarding world in my business."

He nodded, breaking his statue-like form. "I have a daughter... _We _have a daughter." He grinned, and suddenly pulled her into his binding embrace. "We have a daughter!"

She laughed and she cried, but it was all from the joy and relief that was coursing through her. "You're not upset."

He wiped her tears planting a soft kiss on her lips. "My only regret has been dying before I could see her."

"I'm -"

"Don't say you're sorry. It's annoying."

"What can I say?"

"Ask me to come home. I want my family."

She stilled. Nott had refused to find her until then, and if he could do that he could have kept Draco's parents death a secret. She had always held a distant fondness for Nott, for his friendship with Draco, but if he withheld something as important as his parents fate - for whatever reason - she'd hex him. She'd use Draco's wand for it.

"Draco... Your parents..."

He shook his head. "I know about my parents. I was talking about you and Kaida."

She gripped his arm, helping him to his feet. "Come home, Draco Malfoy."

"Gladly, Hermione Granger."


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Fights and Miracles

The only window in the room was opened. The sky darkened from blue to pinks and oranges, a small breeze ruffled the pure white curtains. It was peaceful... Almost.

Hermione packed Draco's clothes attempting to pay no mind to the yelling that was taking place outside of the door. Even while there was remaining clothes in his wardrobe, she checked under beds (knowing how messy boys could be), and in every other drawer. Still, the noise could not be ignored. It rung in her ears, the harsh words and demanding tones.

"You've gone loony! I should chuck you in St. Mungo's and be done with you!"

"This isn't your choice to make, Theo! And keep your bloody voice down, there are children here."

"The children are out with Terra, now explain the bruises."

"I fell out of bed, I told you that."

"What were you doing getting out of bed? You can't walk yet. You have therapy three times a week, don't push yourself!"

"You're not my mother."

"No, because your mother is dead."

Hermione gasped, her hand slapping over her mouth, listening to the rest against her better judgment, Draco's silk shirt twisted in her hand.

"Everyone in your life is dead, Draco, except me."

"And Hermione."

"Forgive me, I forgot to include your murderer girlfriend in the family list there."

"She was pregnant, Theo."

There was an extended pause, and all the yelling ceased. Hermione pressed her ear against the door.

"Pregnant? With your kid?"

"Of course it's my kid!"

"You have a baby? Draco Malfoy with a little brat... Congratulations, is the monster a boy or girl?"

"Girl. Kaida Harmony," Draco said with such pride that it made Hermione burst. "I'm going to go with her, Theo. I appreciate everything you've done for me, but it's time that I start living again. Whether you approve or not."

"Mate, I don't hate Granger -"

"You're bitter -"

"Yeah, I'm bitter. She nearly killed you! What friend wouldn't be bitter? But I got her for you, didn't I?"

"Great, thank, now let me be with her."

"You're not fully healed yet. It's not wise for you to move about as if you've had full use of your legs for the past -"

"I know you like her, Theo. You would have chopped my legs off if you hated her the way you're putting on."

"Like you did for so many years. You're too weak for this. For a daughter that young."

"I'm not budging on this."

"You're not going to ask her to kill you again, are you?"

"No, I have daughter to live for."

Hermione beamed, smoothing out his shirt on the bed. Without a wand she couldn't iron out the wrinkles in it, but it would have to do. At some point she would have to tell Draco that she locked her wand away. She hoped he would understand.

She extracted the last shirt from the closet, and pressed the fabric to her nose, inhaling his scent. He still smelled the same, after all that time. It brought back sweet memories of their unavowed midnight strolls. Of their kisses behind the One-Eyed Witch statue. She recalled brushing his hand as he so-called "cruelly" bumped into her shoulder. The touches they exchanged when no one would see. All of their pretense that led to the most beautiful little girl and the sweetest reunion.

She wondered how many times she had wished that she could bury her face into his shirt like she had then. To kiss his cheek and lips, and feel his shoulders under her hands. She had more wishes of that than she had nightmares, and she had a lot of nightmares.

The door clicked open, and she dropped the shirt immediately, spinning around. "Draco - Oh... Nott," she inhaled, surprised.

Nott closed the door behind him. "I'm making Draco take a nap in my room before he leaves." He crossed his arms, assessing her as he had done only earlier that day. "I don't want him leaving, Granger. It's not a good idea to put him through this."

"You mean putting him through seeing his daughter for the first time?"

"He needs to be taken care of, not taking care of your daughter."

"Ours," she corrected. "She looks just like Draco."

"I don't give a flying Griffin. He's too weak."

"You were against this before he told you of Kaida."

"You were listening?" He appeared to be marginally amused and offended.

"I'm sorry. It was hard not to."

She moved to the bed, sitting down on its edge. "I see your worry for him. I'm so very thankful that you've aided him when I could not. He's alive because of you, and I owe you everything. I'm asking that you don't take him from me when I have him back. Please, Nott?"

He shook his head, and her heart sunk, but she could not blame him. If it was Ron that had been nearly killed, she wouldn't want him going home with his would-be murderer, frail as he could be.

"This is not my decision to make," Nott said.

"Then what do you want?"

"Your vow that you'll take care of him."

"I promise, Nott, I will care for him for as long as he lives. I will never attempt such a stupid act ever again. Please, trust me."

"It's not about trusting you, Granger. I hate what you did, but I see why you did it."

"Then what are you afraid of," she asked softly.

"Losing him."

"I'm afraid of that, too."

"Then I have your word."

"You have my wand if you choose."

He smiled, "that won't be necessary. You don't even have your wand."

"Don't mention it to Draco, will you?"

"Nah. I'll leave that to you. To be utterly honest, Granger, I'm sort of happy he'll be gone. Terra will be, too, having to cover his Dark Mark every morning. The questions from the kids. They think of him as their hero and he played that up nicely. He was driving us bonkers!"

"Talking about me?"

Draco limped into the room, his cane making small thuds that went by unnoticed before.

"You're conceited," Nott stated in response, not a bit abashed by being caught slandering him.

"As are you, my friend." Draco came up to Hermione, and kissed her forehead.

"Excuse me if I don't stay around for a smooch fest. I'll have Inky take your bags to your new house."

"Thanks."

Nott nodded, and let himself out, but as soon as he did, and as soon as Draco bent to kiss her again, a mop of brown hair flashed out of the corner of Hermione's eye, and then that mop was in front of her, bouncing up and down.

A little boy began signing with his hands, his facial expressions as animated as a cartoon, his eyes just as round and wide.

Draco moved his arm from Hermione, and signed back.

"Hermione, this is Ladon. Ladon, this is my girlfriend," he introduced as he signed.

Ladon bowed deeply, as if greeting a fair maiden.

"He's been with that elf too long," Draco muttered. "Stop that, Ladon, you aren't an elf."

"I think it's cute," Hermione said, looking down at the pudgy-faced boy. He was young, about six-years-old.

Draco chuckled, "he says he likes you."

"Tell him I like him, too."

"Go on, Ladon, Terra will be looking for you, you're not supposed to be out of your class. Go on, get."

The boy wasted no time in running from the room.

Draco groaned, "wish I could yell at him for running. Too bad he won't hear me."

"He's cute."

"Yeah, little bugger comes in here everyday to talk. Muggle-born, though," he tsked at that as if it was a shame.

She raised a brow. "Does that matter?"

"Yes. His parents didn't want a magical child."

"That's terrible..."

"He lives here with us. I reckoned many times if you hadn't moved on we would adopt him."

She looked out the door, although the boy was nowhere to be seen. "Draco... Are you serious? You want to adopt Ladon?"

"I don't know, Hermione... Would you want another child? How would Kaida feel about it?"

She shook her head. "Jealous. Most kids are of new children - and especially your child, but... It would be nice. We could, if you wanted to."

"Really?"

"I would love more children with you." And she did. She never thought of it before. First, they were too young, and when he died, it was an impossibility. Kaida was a miracle. Ladon would be a miracle too, the part of Draco she missed. She wanted it. Adopting Ladon, giving a boy a home... A boy that had been there for Draco. She wanted that. Their family would be complete.

"I'll tell Theo and Terra, and I'll ask Ladon. Right now, I want to spend time with my family. I want to get to know my daughter."

"Ready to go home then," Hermione asked.

"More than ever."

* * *

A/N: If you read my writers' blog, you'll recognize Ladon. I couldn't bear to scratch him out of this story completely, so here he is.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter Twenty-Nine  
Miracles Happen, at a Price

"Generations of the Black family are spinning in their graves." Draco shook his head in mock sadness as he stared up at Grimmauld Place void of its decorated snakes. With the last memory he had of the dark, dank building, she supposed that it would be quite a shock to see it looking so different.

With Hermione's aid, he hobbled up the stairs to the front door, his hand reaching out to touch the handle. It was a normal handle as far as handles went. In the case of the former Black home, it was unusual for it to be a common brass that could be found on millions of other homes. In other words, it was not in the shape of a serpent, and something as abominable as that earned a heave of breath from him.

Nott hadn't been fond of their decision to leave that night, and felt inclined to tell her so in his most strictest of tones. Needless to say, she told Nott in _her_ most formal tone, that she would take care of him just fine. She wouldn't "kill" him again. It sounded funny, but it wasn't.

In retrospect it was nice of Nott to have apparated them to a close alleyway. He was just as good of a liar as Ginny. He made no sign of telling falsehoods as he told his best mate that it would be helpful if Hermione held him up while he disapparted them. It was her secret to tell Draco, not Nott's, and it was in great appreciation that Nott realized that.

"Did you ring Potty Potter?"

Inwardly, she grimaced. In all of the excitement and shock, she forgot to call Harry. "Isn't it time that you give up hating him?"

"If it was up to you, I wouldn't hate anyone. And then what would I do with my time?"

"Heal," she said pushing her key into the lock.

"Where is your wand?"

"Draco, you know very well that I'm muggle-born. I like doing things the muggle way sometimes."

"You're still a dreadful liar. Haven't you learned anything from me?" He held her hand, stilling her from opening the door.

"I've learned that miracles happen. What have you learned from me," she asked in return.

He smirked. "Not to ask you to kill me. You can't do the job right."

She laughed hollowly and pushed the door open. "Are you ready to meet your daughter?"

In answer he leaned heavily on his cane and on her. Slowly, they walked inside through the hallway. She pointed out the various drawings that Kaida had done. There were pinned parchments of blue suns, purple grass, and maroon Hippogriffs. She deftly avoided the ones showing her and Harry. Those had always made her sad, and yet satisfied. It gave her comfort that Kaida had two parents, whether or not one of them was her biological parent.

From what sounded like was coming from the kitchen were noises of happiness. Giggles of Kaida, and muffled voices of Harry and Pansy. The kitchen glow cast long shadows, black figures on the floor moving past the lit hearth.

Like a stone dropping in her gut, it occurred to her that she didn't tell Draco that his ex-girlfriend was dating her best friend. Not only her best friend, but his enemy, the man raising their child. She tensed as they approached and injected logic into the situation to calm her nerves. Draco was too weak to fight, and Harry wouldn't hurt him. It was likely that he would be too floored to fight a man he thought was dead.

Pansy held Kaida in her arms, dancing to the upbeat music playing on the wireless. Harry, who was stirring a metal pot, watched them with sweet reverie. There was a twinkle about him, one similar to the late Dumbledore. That one glimpse of joy did not last long, however. Pansy halted abruptly in her steps as she spotted Draco by the door. Her gasp was loud and audible and Kaida began to fuss, not understanding why the dancing had ended. Harry stopped stirring, following her stare, and the spoon dropped, splattering in the brown pot.

"It's him, it's Draco," Hermione said quickly as Harry reached for the wand in his belt. "Nott led me to him. It's a long story."

He was uncertain. "Who punched you in our Third Year?"

"Hermione didn't punch me, she slapped me. You were there."

Slowly he lowered his hand, his expression teetering between disappointment and ease. "Will someone explain this?"

Pansy glowered, a look that would make a Basilisk shed his skin. "You didn't tell me? All this time!"

Draco didn't take his eyes off of his daughter, wonder filling them. "My daughter?"

"Answer me!"

"We were broken up, Pansy, and I was healing from a curse - the worse curse you can heal from. Unlike Potty here, I remember it. If Theo wouldn't find Hermione for me, then he most certainly wouldn't find you. He never liked you."

"He was a prat."

"And you were a -" He didn't finish his sentence, not at the glowers he was receiving, and not in front of his daughter. He was a gentleman, in his core.

Electricity sparked the air. "You were dead, Hermione killed you," Harry stated, albeit cold as ice.

Hermione knew very well what Draco wanted to say, "didn't you learn that when your mummy died?" But, Draco had grown up, and though he wanted to say it, he didn't. "Hermione finally found a spell she's no good at." He held out his arms, "I'd like to see my daughter now, Pansy."

"You may have Hermione and Harry fooled, but I want proof. Real proof. Prove to me you're Draco."

"You're holding a half-blood's baby. I think the time for surprises has long past." He sighed, "have it your way. We met in Gringotts. You were rich, I was rich, our families had pinched noses. We got on well. Now, may I hold my baby?"

Kaida, ignoring the banter, stretched her hand to Harry, clenching and unclenching her tiny fist. "Da da."

The whole room froze in that second of time, staring at the sweet little girl. Hermione was struck speechless, torn between two reactions. One being to praise her for her first word, the other wanting to cry, because as she looked at Kaida's biological father, it was seeing an innocent man marching to the gallows.

Draco turned, limping out of the kitchen. "Potter," he ordered gruffly.

Leaving Pansy alone to coddle Kaida, Harry, Draco, and Hermione joined outside. Hermione placed a firm touch on Draco's chest, but it did little to help, for he pushed her kindness away, withdrawing his wand. He aimed right at Harry's chest, not blinking to produce the necessary shine, and he looked scary, like a mad person.

"Been playing house in my life, eh, Potter?"

Calmly, Harry took his wand out too. "How do you figure?"

"You're living with my girlfriend in my relatives old home raising my child. What do you call that?"

"What do you call being alive when everyone thought you dead?"

"Don't _push _me, Potter."

"I'd love an explanation to that one, _Malfoy._ I'd also like to know how come now?"

"I owe you nothing!" He turned wild, a twisted sneer plastered on his lips reminding her of the days of his old prejudice. It was too closely resembling the sneer he gave her when they were children.

How did everything go wrong, when her life was beginning to right itself? It was starting to rewind and mend. Miracles did happen, but they happened at a price. Draco may decide that her life was already fixed, and she didn't need him. That thought came errant through her mind at his wounded expression.

Pansy came through then, passing Kaida off to her and snatching Draco's wand out of his hold. "You were gone," she informed angrily, "your daughter doesn't know you. What did you expect when you made up your bloody mind to show your arrogant face around here? We thought you were dead. Hermione held a funeral for you. Nobody else wanted to."

Draco cast a shocked glance to Hermione. "You held a funeral for me?"

"And your parents," Pansy went on.

Hermione nodded. "Before I cursed you, your father locked me in a broom closet. I escaped, but he wanted me safe. For you. Your parents didn't want us together, but they wanted you happy. They didn't murder me, and I owed them a proper service. I did kill their only son."

"Tried," he corrected.

"I thought I did."

Harry dropped his wand. "I didn't take your place. Hermione's my best friend. I wanted to be there for her."

"Were you going to marry her? That's what the old good Potter would do. Marry the best friend because she got knocked up by your enemy." The angry glint returned. "Give me my wand, Pansy."

"No."

"Pansy, I want my wand."

"Bugger off, Draco. You never paid any attention to me. I never said a bad word against Harry. I kept quiet the entire time we were together. Nott did too. You thought you ruled the school, but you had everyone running behind your back. You made everyone afraid, but you turned out to be a coward and you're being a coward now. Look what happened because of it! Hermione thought she murdered you, Harry raised your child, and you never knew. I love Harry. So stick that wand up your arse!"

Draco looked stricken, that of a man who had woken from a ten-year coma to find the whole world and everyone he knew and loved to be different. The features of his face were pulled down, tears glistening.

Hermione remembered the last time Harry had witnessed him crying. By what Harry had told her, Ron, and Ginny, Draco had ended up on the floor in a pool of his own blood. He would have died if it weren't for Snape. She hated that she could not go to him in the hospital infirmary, couldn't give away what they secretly had. She worried sick, overhearing anything that she could, but least of all from Pansy, who embellished every hurt that he acquired in hopes of winning his attention once more. Little did she know that at the time, Draco was no longer hers.

With that thought she placed Kaida in his arms and stepped back to watch as he inexpertly held her. Kaida wrinkled her nose, pulling back to get a good look at her unknown father. Slowly, he beamed, and she did too. She giggled and he laughed. It was harmony.

"My daughter," he whispered, "she's beautiful."

"Does that mean you're going to stay alive for a while," Pansy asked sincerely with an undertone of biting resentment.

Harry's hand rested in the swoop of her lower back. "You're her father, mate. It was never me."

"Are you going to stay or be daft," Pansy reiterated, restive.

Draco looked to Hermione when he answered. "Yes. I'm going to stay. As long as Harry never calls me his mate again."

* * *

A/N: Don't worry, Draco wouldn't give in that easy. More to come.


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter Thirty

Draco's Tale

The memory of Draco's tale began on his first day at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He told Kaida of the boats across the black lake, the enchantments he saw, greater and better than any stories told by his elders. He told her of a bushy-haired girl that thought she knew everything, and how she annoyed him to no end.

He told her of a late night that he was sulking (Hermione's term, not his) the halls of Hogwarts. He saw Harry sneak into a room, and he quietly followed.

"You were there?" Harry's eyes bugged.

"You think your stupid invisibility cloak was a cloak of _silence_? You were walking in your shoes on _stone_, Potter; you made a lot of noise. Now, shut it, I'm telling a story to my daughter."

Draco continued his tale, carrying on from where he saw Harry sitting in front of the Mirror of Erised. He waited until he left to stand in front of the mirror himself. Draco knew then that Hermione had gotten to him, because it was her that he saw in the mirror, beside him, their House emblems and colors clashing as they held hands as two friends would do. He did everything to change it, to hate her, but it was set, the feelings surfacing, and he couldn't help eventually loving her.

With his daughter in his lap, Draco recounted that tale, and the last year that he missed with them. He took great joy in being the center of attention going into great detail, but he was however entranced by the little one with him. He felt her fingers and toes, counting them, he smelled her hair, his smile not faltering in the slightest.

They all sat at the table in the kitchen, to hear the last year of Draco's condensed story. When it came to a close, Kaida began to fuss. Frightened, he looked to Hermione. She stood, but Pansy had beaten her to it.

"No," she hushed, "you two talk, I'll change her."

Harry jerked his head in agreement, but his eyes didn't falter from Hermione's face. With his girlfriend they left to Kaida's room, Harry casting one last look at her. When Kaida's cries were muffled by the distance, the air grew in its intensity.

Hermione hadn't expected it. It never occurred to her to wonder what it would've been like if Draco hadn't really been dead. After all, raising the conscious dead was impossible. If she had imagined it, she wouldn't have thought it would be the way it was. She wouldn't have dreamed that she wouldn't know what to say. It was unlike her.

Abruptly, Draco stood, his chair knocked off its legs behind him. He swept his arms across the table, the empty glasses of lemonade breaking on the floor. Kicking the overturned chair, he cursed.

Hermione held her chest, swallowing her heart. "Draco?"  
He sniffled, and cracked. "It was supposed to be us. Nott would find you, we'd pick up where we left off. I'd marry you, have some kids and have our happy ever after. I resent my best mate for keeping you from me this long. The tragedies are supposed to be over."

She ruffled. "Kaida is not a tragedy." She was a miracle. She was an angel. She saved Hermione's life, because Hermione was positive that she wouldn't have lived much longer. If it wasn't for Harry...

Apologetically, he agreed. "She's beautiful, Hermione, but I missed out on everything. Seeing you pregnant with my child, seeing you obsessing over every little thing, the way you'd pour over those maternity books, your labor, her first crawl. Potter took my place - don't say he didn't - I'm glad that he was there for you, but _he'll_ always be her father. My daughter doesn't know me."

"But she will. You haven't missed everything."

"Put yourself in my place, please. The bloke I've hated since I was eleven has been raising my baby. You and him had an affair -"

"I told you -"

"And I heard you, Hermione. You still kissed him. You considered being with him."

She blinked back the tears burning in her eyes, because it was a lie. Her and Harry had done more than kissed, but she could never tell him that.

He read her, as he always had been able to. "Were you with him?"

Tears rolled from her eyes. "Yes. You were dead, Draco."

He looked as if he had been so severely wounded that he would die all over again. Her tears fell harder, and she reached for him, needing him to touch her, for her to know that he still loved her, but he stepped back. He didn't allow it.

"Draco..."

"Why?" He snarled.

"You were... g-gone. Kaida... Kaida n-needed a fa-father. Harry -"

"Is her father."

"Yes."

Once more, he took a step back. He was shaking his head, tears glistening on his transparent lashes. "I knew it. I knew it would be you and Potter."

"No, Draco. Harry was as good as a father to her, he was here -"

"That wasn't my fault!"

"I know! It was mine! I killed you! Oh, gods, Draco, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Don't."

She inhaled shakily, trying to keep her voice even. "He was here, and I was glad. It was once. On-only once. I didn't love him and he didn't love me. He proposed and – and - I said no. I love you, Draco. I always have." She hiccuped.

"You and Potter..." He turned in a slow circle, gripping at his hair. "My worst enemy. It was bad enough that you were best friends with the bastard, but you had to sleep with him?"

"N-no! There is no me and Harry. I promise you!"

"Can't you see it was us, Hermione? It's always been us. If we didn't always like each other we respected each other. Okay, no, you never respected me, but I did respect you. I liked you. I love you. No matter what situation we're in, I thought we would always be together."

"Wh-what about this sit-situation," she croaked.

He was silent. "I want to kill him. I'm not saying I will," he added quickly. "I... Hate that he touched you. You were mine. And now, you're only partly... You'll never be all mine. He had you and Kaida. I'll never forget that. I'm not sure I'm selfless to forgive that."

She forced herself to breathe slowly, to keep a handle on the stream of her cries. "It was horrid to know that you'd never see her smile or walk. You wouldn't know which House she'd be accepted in. I wouldn't hear you complain about her being a Gryffindor, or your boasting about her being a Slytherin. You'd never walk her down the aisle on her wedding day. She would know stories, but never you. It's killed me, Draco. She needs you. Not Harry or Pansy, but you. I need you. It's been so hard... Without you..."

Draco pulled a chair out for her and she sat. Grimacing as he knelt before her, and with one arm holding on for leverage, he wiped her tears away, tucking her hair behind her ears. "It hasn't been easy for me either. I wanted you but couldn't get to you." He kissed her, his breath caressing her lips. "I need you, Hermione. Swear to me that it was nothing more than a stupid night. Tell me you were drunk. Anything. Lie to me, I don't care."

"I can't lie to you... I read somewhere -"

"Please, Hermione, don't do that."

"No, listen to me. I read somewhere that when two people bond over a tragedy, that they form an unbreakable bond. They fall in love."

She held his forearms, ensuring that he wasn't going anywhere until she finished. The lecture she was forcing upon him was the most important lecture he would ever get. He needed to hear it. To know. "Harry's been my best friend since we were eleven. We've already been through tragedy and danger, and we never romantically advanced. When we did, we felt nothing other than the need for companionship. I never stopped loving you. I never stopped thinking about you." She continued to weep, but her tone was more in control. "Tell me we can get through this..."

"If we can cheat death, I can get over you sleeping with Potter. You missed me and you tried to find my equal in the lowest place. You were drunk. I can't begrudge you for finding solace in the bottom of a bottle."

She laughed and sniffed.

"Promise me something, Hermione."

"Anything."

"We'll be a family. You, Kaida, and me. We'll be how we were meant to be."

She touched her nose to his. "I promise."

* * *

A/N: I'd like to thank all of you for your well-wishes and thoughts, it was very much appreciated. My mother is healing nicely!


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter Thirty-One

The Vine Wand

Every night Draco would be found rocking Kaida to sleep. He patted her back and rambled on about himself until sleep snuck up on him, too. He confessed that he wanted her to know his voice, to know him. His life story was told to her in dire need to be recognized as her father. As he put it: "Not that rotten git. Your father doesn't have any embarrassing scars. You don't have to worry, you're a Malfoy. Not some bloody Potter."

Hermione paused in the doorway when she returned home from work, hearing his scratchy voice, drawled as it normally was. She listened intently, her head on the frame.

"Told you I met your mother at Hogwarts. She was annoying mudblood, a know-it-all, bookworm, remember? Let me explicate. She was always raising her hand to answer every question. Can't tell ya how many times I fantasized about smacking that hand. God, she was annoying."

Kaida's eyes were slipping closed, her hand fiddling with the designs on the cane that was hooked on the arm of the chair.

"They say there's a thin line between love and hate. It's true. One moment I was hating her, and hating myself for thinking of her all the time. The next moment I was contemplating kissing her. While everything said about her's true, it's true that she's the most infuriating and beautiful woman I've ever met. You're mother has more shine than a Veela, and you my daughter, shine brighter than a thousand suns."

"I'm still a mudblood, Draco?" She walked in, smiling lightly.

His shock wore off quickly. "Yes, but I'm the only one who can call you that. You're a mudblood, but you're my mudblood."

She couldn't be angry at that, as she had once said to Ron that she was proud to be a mudblood. And she was proud. "Allow me to put our daughter to bed tonight."

"You've put her to bed for her entire life. It's my turn for the next year."

She sighed, but she wouldn't have had it any other way. She kissed Kaida's cheek, and bent up to kiss Draco's. It was perfect, more than she had ever wanted. It was almost unfair.

"I found us a house today."

"You had time to shop for a house?"

"Our daughter likes throwing peas. I used the Daily Prophet as a shield, and wouldn't you know it, right in front of me was the perfect home."

"How do you know it's perfect if you've never seen it, Draco? It could have an infestation."

"I know it does."

She cocked a brow at him. "What's wrong with you?"

"Excuse you, Granger, that was rude!"

"Granger?"

"For now," he settled. "About the house -"

"With the infestation."

"With the infestation."

"What kind?"

"Weasels."

"What house has weasels?"

"It doesn't yet, but it has a high chance of them. It's susceptible for houses that live near them." He rolled his eyes. "Catch on, Hermione. I'm talking about the Weasels. Your Weasels."

"Now you're saying I have weasels..."

"The Weasley's. For goodness sakes, don't make me say that name. There's so many of them it's frightening. They could come through the cracks in the walls."

She rolled her eyes. "I think you've cracked. You want to buy a house near the Weasley's?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Molly and Arthur, I believe. Those two. There's a house miles away, but trust me, it's close enough."

She knelt before him. "Why would you want to buy a house near them?"

"It has four bedrooms, four bathrooms, an adequate sized kitchen and lounge. It's plenty for a quaint family. There's a plot of land outside that we can garden in. We can grow roses or gardenia's, or something pretty for Kaida. Until we have enough kids to fill it up we can have separate offices and Kaida can have her own playroom."

"Draco, have you looked at this house without me?"

"I'll take you there, love. You get the final approval."

"You didn't answer my question, Draco. Why would you want to live near the Weasley's? Surely there has to be a reason, and please tell me that your head wasn't damaged from my curse." She meant it as a joke, but she found when she said it aloud that she was truly disturbed about it.

Draco looked down at his daughter's fair face. "Don't make me say it, Hermione. It'll physically pain me." She touched his hand, and he groaned, giving in. "You and Kaida are the only family I have left. And your family is mine. This means the blasted Weasels and Potty. I'll never forgive Scarhead, but I probably owe the ruddy... Jerk." He looked cautiously at the sleeping girl who was learning to talk. "I think I'm going to be sick..."

She kissed his lips. "That means the world to me."

"I won't ever like them, Hermione."

"Every family needs a black sheep," she joked.

"Did you refer to me as a furry mammal?"

"Furry?"

"Fluffy?"

"You've never seen sheep, have you, Draco?"

"Hermione, will you see the house with me?"

"No." He looked crestfallen. "I don't need to. It sounds perfect." She kissed his lips a second time.

"Hermione?"

She stopped to look at Harry in the doorway, clearly uncomfortable by the scene he had walked in on.

Draco grumbled, pressing his heels to the floor rocking Kaida in gentle tandem. "Potter."

"Malfoy. Hermione, may I speak to you?"

Draco looked at her, and to sooth his worries, she kissed him. "He's like my brother," she assured, knowing that no matter what she said, it wouldn't matter. Draco would never believe anything she had to say about it. She would never be able to be around Harry without suspicions, and that was all of her fault. If that was the least of the repercussions that she would have to owe, then that was okay by her.

He nodded shortly, muttering, "I get to curse him if he tries anything."

Hermione chose to ignore that statement, and she followed Harry into the kitchen.

Harry paced by the table twice before he stopped and looked at her with an almost painful expression.

She worried. "Harry... What's wrong?"

"Are you sure about this? About Malfoy?"

She didn't answer, shocked that he would ask such an apparent question. He had been there for her during the hardest time in her life. He saw what she was without him. It had always been Draco.

"It's been a year, and people change," he told her.

"What are you trying to say?"

He inhaled deeply. He took a step toward her and stalled, taking the step back. "I started seeing you differently, Hermione. I thought it would be a new beginning with you. After all these years, it seemed impossible. For once, you needed me in a way you never did before. For once, I could take care of you." He eased himself into a chair as if he suddenly aged fifty years. "It's not often that anyone gets to take care of you. You've always taken care of Ron and me."

She sat beside him.

"I love Kaida. If Malfoy isn't prepared to be the father he should be, then I will. Tell me you love Malfoy; that he'll take care of you both, and I'll leave it alone."

"Oh, Harry..." Hermione teared, touched by his act of protectiveness over her daughter. "I do love him, and he will. He wants so much to be a good father, and he'll be wonderful."

He made a guttural sound, as if the thought of Malfoy being a good father was revolting. "I trust you. You should trust yourself, too. I know you haven't been carrying your wand."

She stilled in amazement. "How did you know?"

"You love magic, Hermione. I haven't seen you do one spell since the night Malfoy 'died.'"

"Oh..." So he knew, and he had known all that time.

"You're a witch," he nudged her. "What's a witch without a wand?"

"What was a daughter without her father?"

"Kaida's father survived," he pointed out.

She leaned on his shoulder. "Kaida's your daughter, too. She has Malfoy blood, but you raised her. She knows you as her father, she loves you, and so do I."

He kissed her, his warm lips dry and chapped pricking her forehead.

"Get away from her, Potter."

Harry and Hermione jumped to their feet, Draco standing in the doorway in a fury, his wand out. Pansy was behind him, huffing, holding Kaida on her hip. "Draco!"

"Malfoy, it's not what -"

"Shut it, Potter!"

"What're you going to do? Curse me? Are you going to be that daft?"

"I should curse you."

"He's an Auror," Pansy reminded Draco ruefully, clutching Kaida tighter. Hermione had the strong urge to go to her daughter and take her upstairs, away from the threat of harm, but she couldn't leave Harry's side while Draco was cornering him.

"He won't hurt me," Harry told Pansy without taking his eyes off of Draco.

Hermione knew better. Draco would curse him. Without a second thought she placed herself in front of Harry. If she knew anything more than Draco's desires, it was that he wouldn't hex her.

Draco's visage twisted into agony. "You're going to protect him?" He spat, "nothing's changed, then, I see. Everyone protects poor orphaned Potter."

"Stop it, Draco. Please. Your daughter is watching."

As though he didn't realize, he snapped around, his eyes focusing on Kaida peering curiously up at him. He didn't move for several long ticks of the ancient clock on the wall, and then, he put his wand away, hurrying out of the kitchen, his cane echoing on the stairs outside.

Hermione rushed after him. She followed the sounds of banging to the room they shared.

Draco laid a brown bag on the bed, throwing open the wardrobe doors and arbitrarily pitching clothes into it. He didn't look up as he spoke to her, "get Kaida's things. We're leaving tonight."

"Draco, please. Nothing is going on between me and Harry. You have to believe that."

"I trust you, Hermione, but I've hated that bloke all my life! He didn't know me, but I knew him. I had dreams of my family sitting on the right hand side of the Dark Lord when I would bring him Potter. You don't get it, love."

"No," she confessed.

He shook his head. "I'll go along with him visiting, and spending partial holidays with him, but I can't live with him. I'll go bonkers in here. Understand that, Hermione."

"I do," she sighed, and she did. Him and Harry would always be enemies. They would get along solely for Kaida's benefit.

She walked over to him, placing her hands in his. "I'm sorry, about everything."

He nodded before turning to the bedside table, attempting to open its drawer. But it wouldn't budge. "Locked? Hermione, why is this locked?"

She flushed.

He straightened. "Hermione?"

She had to tell him. There was no avoiding it. "My wand," she nearly mouthed the words were so quiet.

"What's your wand doing in here?" He furrowed his pale brows in thought. "I haven't seen your wand since..." And it dawned on him.

"It was too hard." She was still speaking softly.

Draco tapped his wand against the lock, popping the drawer open, her wand rattling against its sides. He took it out, and placed it in her palm. The contact was delicious, like a part of herself had returned, making her whole again. It was coming home after years away.

He scolded. "You're a witch, Hermione. You may as well have cut off your arm and locked it in here."

"It was necessary."

"It was obtuse. I fell in love with a witch."

"I'm not the same person, Draco."

"You're still Hermione. You still think you know it all, you do know it all. You still bite your lip and squint your eyes when you're concentrating. You tap your finger against your leg when you're nervous. What is not Hermione is you letting fear rule you. You were meant to be a mudblood witch." He smirked.

"That's contradictory."

"So are you a lot of the time. The goody-two-shoes hanging out with the biggest trouble makers in our school."

"Next to Fred and George."

"You won't hurt me."

"No..." She inhaled, and tapped the tip of her wand to his nose, light blue sparks emitting, reflecting in his gray eyes.

He didn't flinch. He bowed, and met his lips with hers. "My love."

* * *

A/N: There's an epilogue.


	32. Chapter 32

Epilogue

Dear Luna,

I hope this finds you and Dean well. Congratulations on discovering a new species of Flobberworms, and thank you for sending some to the kids. They love the pink and green coloring. They all keep them next to their bed as a nightlight.

Last week Kaida and Brannon came home for Easter, us celebrating Brannon's 11th birthday. Ladon is feeling quite left out, not able to attend Hogwarts like his siblings. She set up a stool with my old dress hat on it, and called all of us in to watch Ladon place the "sorting hat" on his head. Brannon leaned in, whispering in his ear, "Gryffindor." Oh, the look on their father's face! Draco about had a heart attack. I told him that all we now needed was a Hufflepuff. It was the perfect moment that Kaida took the picture, it was uncanny how much he resembled the Bloody Baron. The whole day was precious, and now we have Ladon's "Gryffindor" announcement between Kaida's Slytherin and Brannon's Ravenclaw declarations.

Draco wanted to give Ladon some independence and he respectfully quit his job teaching at Terra's school. Honestly, I'm surprised he was able to teach history, it was amazing how much information he retained from Professor Binn's class. I'm not sure how; soaking words from a page while you're sleeping is an impossibility.

He has finally earned respect in the Auror field. This is due to Harry scolding everyone in his department and Draco hexing Mr. Bean. When Draco's suspension ended Harry gave him a raise (the reasoning is beyond me). I'm telling him tonight that he doesn't need to sleep on the couch anymore.

I passed the ownership of Booknook to my employee, Amanda, and have taken the position as a defense lawyer for mistreated magical creatures. I love my job, and it keeps me occupied. It's lonesome here without my children, but Draco is planning on taking me away on a trip to Italy in two weeks.

Ginny told me that you're returning from Guam in a week and a half. That's great news, you'll be in for Harry and Pansy's wedding! The housewarming party was today. It was quite lovely, but very dark, just as Pansy prefers it. Harry has twenty muggle lamps sitting in the lounge, knowing that she doesn't know how to turn them off. It came as a shock to him when he returned to find them blown to pieces.

When your expedition is over, stay around, there will be another wedding soon. I helped Patrick choose Ginny's engagement ring yesterday. I was reminiscent of my wedding. It was such a lovely blur, Ladon the keeper of the keys, Ginny walking Kaida down with white flower petals, Harry leading me to Draco, the golden specks of the fountain. The Atrium was perfect, was it not? I hope Ginny will be as happy as I am.

With Love, Hermione

Luna,

I did not look like the Bloody Baron! Hermione is a liar.

Draco

Aunt Luna,

He did. I was there.

Ladon

* * *

A/N: Thank you for sticking with this story, especially after Draco's "death." All of my readers are a blessing.

If you would like to see some scenes that did not make the cut, you should visit my blog. They will be posted soon.


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